Behind Enemy Lines
by rainjewel
Summary: *Complete* A continuation rainjewel style. In other words, angst, yaoi, and violence. This fic is FINALLY COMPLETE! Hell yeah! A huge, slobbery glomp to everyone who reviewed and inspired me.
1. Jimmy

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Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

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Chapter One: A Pyro Paints

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Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, you don't own Escaflowne, get over it. J 

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Author's Note: Hello! This is rainjewel, who is still without Internet and (for the moment) a house! I know that I promised you all a Dilandau x Van yaoi lemon…this might be it. I don't know. This is a story that is kind of going on when I'm not packing boxes or in cheerleading practice (don't laugh, I'll get you with my spiked pom-pom). I have no idea where this story is really going, but it's basically what has happened to Dilandau after he turned back into Celena at the end of Esca. It's about Dilandau, so it's going to be disturbing. Ratings will slowly climb higher and higher, I suppose. Anyway, this story won't be updated very frequently since it's hard for me to get online. Also, it has a lot of flashbacks and stuff, which I won't mark. I feel marking a section "flashback" kind of ruins the whole feeling of the story; it interrupts the flow, if you will. If you find this a problem, I will mark them. I'm so sorry about all this! But please, still review and I will try to reply. I promise! Thank you!

~*~

Dilandau Albatou sat in front of his vanity table in the Schezar Manor. He twirled his fingers in his curly, pale-gold locks and batted his thickly-lashed blue eyes. Then he giggled; a high soft sound that sounded like church bells. Gracefully he ran an innocent hand down his downy cheek. All these things were his, but not really.

Now, to one standing in the doorway, the scene would have been one of a beautiful young maiden admiring herself in a mirror.

But, what's that old saying? Ah yes, appearances can be deceiving.

Dilandau knew that this body was incredibly attractive. Not as attractive as his older, "other" body, but not bad for a female. Nevertheless, Dilandau hated it. The frame was so slender and tiny, the bones fragile. And the muscles—Dilandau traced his upper arm—were nonexistent. Nothing but smooth, supple skin.

As for the clothes, Dilandau couldn't be more disgusted. The gown of fine silk was nice (expensive), Dilandau acknowledged, but the fabric was flimsy and weak.

Have I mentioned that Dilandau does not like weakness?

Thin silk. Made by worms. Definitely not the leather jacket Dilandau preferred, nor the metal armor he adored. And the color of the dress: yellow. Dilandau narrowed his—_her_—sapphire eyes. Red. Dilandau wanted_ red_. Red was him, Dilandau. Yellow was…yellow was Allen. If only he could change this yellow to red.

Yellow to red.

Yellow hair to red…blood red.

Dilandau laughed again, his tone sweet, his blue eyes merry. He stood up daintily and kissed the mirror, then turned to leave the room.

Dilandau wanted red. 

And red he shall have.

~*~

Dilandau Albatou prowled the halls of the _Vione_ as stealthily as he knew how. Tonight was not one of his infamous midnight romps, nor was it going to be a long night of discussing battle with the loathed Folken Strategos. This was something far more important. Dilandau smirked ruefully. There was something more important then battle to Dilandau Albatou? Of course there was:

Himself.

And something was wrong with him, he could feel it. He was more edgy then usual, more apt to lash out, trying to make up for a foreign uneasiness that seemed to be growing in his heart. Yes, Dilandau knew he was a brutal commander. He also knew that if _he_ thought he was being more violent then usual, something was wrong.

It's all about that "something."

Dilandau stopped in front of a plain, unmarked door. The door, he knew, led to the bedroom. The bedroom of Zaibach's Strategos, to be precise. Dilandau liked precision. The commander allowed himself a small grin. He hoped Folken slept deeply tonight for the Fanelian man's own good. Slowly he lifted a pale hand and typed in the code to access the room. It was a long and involved sequence, as only Folken would have. Dilandau had only seen the man enter it twice, but twice was enough.

The door opened silently. Dilandau quickly stepped inside, ducking into the shadows immediately as the door closed again. Dilandau held his breath. He hadn't managed to turn off the lights in the halls due to lack of time. If the interruption had awakened the Strategos, he's have to just hide and wait for the man to succumb to slumber once more.

Or kill him. But that was more then a little messy and Dilandau considered himself a clean person.

Folken, luckily, did not awaken. Instead he sighed deeply and mumbled something in a foreign language Dilandau recognized as ancient Atlantean.

Dilandau translated quickly in his head: "ice cream."

He almost allowed himself a chuckle. Almost.

Silently he crept over to the desk. His bare feet made no sound. Dilandau had dressed for the occasion. He wore only his black pants and a thin black cloak to cover his alabaster skin. A ghost dressed like a shadow. 

Dilandau ran his hand over the many drawers of Folken's personal desk. Knowing the older man's love for order, he suspected the drawers were probably alphabetized. Dilandau picked the first lock opened the drawer. He looked at the folders in dismay. Of course, only Folken would have done this.

The drawers were alphabetized in Fanelian. 

Folken, Dilandau decided, knew too many different dialects. However, the captain for once was glad he'd paid attention to the lectures of his tutors. Dilandau quietly shut the drawer and skipped down to the fifth drawer and opened it. He thumbed through the folders until he found what he wanted. The divider labeled "Dragonslayers."

And there he found the folder labeled "Dilandau Albatou."

It was horrifyingly large. Dilandau found he didn't care. In a perverse way, he was kind of proud. He shut the drawer and stood up from his crouching position. Quickly he flipped through the papers until he recognized the documents with the insignia of the _Madoushi_. Only then did he close the folder and slip out the door, not caring if Folken awoke or not. 

The minute the Dragonslayer captain left, Folken rolled over to face the side of the wall. He kept his eyes open until he heard the high-pitched scream he knew would come. Then the Strategos leaned over and switched his alarm clock for an hour later then usual. He knew he was going to need it.

~*~

Dilandau lightly stepped through Celena's bedroom door. He took small, ladylike steps, since that was all the dress would allow. That and he was wearing high heels. Dilandau had already come to the conclusion that learning how to walk in the foul footwear was harder then sword and guymelef training combined. But he had mastered it, for Dilandau strived to master everything. It was not an accomplishment he was delighted with, but an accomplishment nonetheless.

Dilandau Albatou had become the epitome of a lady.

So when the guard outside of Celena's room bowed to Dilandau when he stepped through the doorway, Dilandau smiled kindly (at least, what he _thought_ was kindly) and _then_ hit the man over the head, rendering the soldier unconscious.

Dilandau Albatou was not a barbarian. Neither, for that matter, was Celena Schezar. 

The young lady picked up the heavy man and sat him in a chair by the door, so the swarthy fellow appeared to be asleep. Dilandau smiled delightedly. A few days ago, Celena's body wouldn't have been able to lift the soldier (a fact that had irked him considerably). He was getting stronger.

Perhaps tonight he could do it. Perhaps.

Dilandau grinned again, placed a kiss on the unconscious guard's cheek, and then continued on his way to Allen's chambers, his vision tinted red.

Red. Blood red.

~*~

Dilandau didn't know how long Celena had come to power after Jajuka had died. And Folken died. And the death of basically the entire Zaibach Army (and with it the Empire). All that Dilandau knew was that there was a large empty gap in his memory until he had "awoke" that night in Celena's subconscious.

Now that was a perfect 10 on Dilandau's Weird-Shit-O-Meter.

Dilandau opened his eyes and found himself in dark. Total blackness. He was standing on something he couldn't feel, and he was reaching out and touching something he couldn't see. 

More of those damn "something's."

But he did know that he _wasn't_ dead. That was it. He didn't know how he knew, and he didn't care if he ever found out. He was just relieved that he was alive.

If you could call his situation "alive."

After Dilandau had calmed himself down (that took a few minutes), he was suddenly thrown into the mind of Celena Schezar. At first he didn't know what was happening. Foreign images, sounds, and emotions assaulted him from every direction. Finally he connected the occurrences with the wonderful information from his folder (one of his many military talents was his ability to maintain a cool head in surprising situations). He was in Celena's memories. In them, surrounded by them, ensconced completely. Dilandau went through a complete "tutorial" of the young girl's experience. He felt her confusion, he childish wonder, her euphoria when Allen was near (that caused some major shuddering on Dilandau's behalf). Finally he came to her abduction, and fell prey to her feelings of fear and lack-of-control. The two emotions he hated the most.

That's when he had screamed. On the dark, abysmal plain that was Celena's subconscious, Dilandau covered his head, sank to his knees and screamed bloody murder.

Which is when he met her.

Dilandau opened his eyes, feeling a cool hand on his back. He shot forward, disliking the touch of a human hand (though he debated if it was really "human"). Dilandau fancied himself untouchable. The young captain spun around on his heel and cam face to face with his greatest enemy and closest friend:

Celena Schezar.

…Hold your friends close and your enemies even closer…

Dilandau didn't think he could get any closer.

She stood in front of him, her chin tilted to the side, like a small child studying an insect. She wore a billowy white nightgown, and her hair blew around her face from an invisible wind that Dilandau couldn't feel. In her hand was a bundle of daisy chains.

"Why are you in my dream?" she asked bluntly.

Dilandau's mind whirled, and for a frightening second he thought he just might fall over in shock. He couldn't reply; he couldn't even object when Celena reached out and touched his chest, as if she were testing to see if he was real. Absently Dilandau noted the fact that he was only wearing his lavender undershirt and black pants.

"You're that boy!" Celena exclaimed suddenly, her eyes—eyes he remembered so clearly from old nightmares—lighting up triumphantly. "You're that boy Brother told me about! He…" Celena furrowed her brow, "He said you were a bad person but I mustn't hate you."

Dilandau gave up on understanding his circumstances and grinned a true Dilandau grin.

"Your brother is an intellectually-impaired poor excuse for a man," he said slowly, testing out his voice in this strange realm. Dilandau was an honest (for the most part) person. And he certainly didn't deceive himself.

Yes, Celena was himself. Dilandau had accepted that fact a long time ago, and he had vowed to change that.

"Well, I don't know what that meant," Celena said with a roll of her eyes. "That's pretty!" she shouted, changing subjects with lightening speed. She was pointing to Dilandau's diadem. Dilandau noted her hands were perfectly manicured. Celena put a daisy chain on her head. "Now we're twins!" She exclaimed.

Dilandau laughed sardonically. _If only you truly knew, little girl._

Celena didn't understand what Dilandau was laughing about, but she laughed along anyway. Dilandau had come to the conclusion that Celena hadn't progressed intellectually since her abduction, though her body had.

Celena reached out and put a daisy chain on Dilandau's silver head, thinking it would only make the situation funnier. Instead, he stopped laughing.

Dilandau Albatou _did not_ wear daisy chains. 

He reached up and grabbed her wrist, her hand hovering inches away from his head. Celena stopped her giggles and looked quizzically at Dilandau, then her blue eyes flicked to his other hand which was frozen in midair, preparing for one of his trademark slaps. But, for some reason neither of the two them knew, it wouldn't deliver the blow.

Dilandau began to think furiously. He didn't know how to deal with this situation. He couldn't hit Celena. He didn't know why at the moment, but he wanted to find out. If he could figure his predicament out, he could beat it. And if he could beat it…Dilandau smiled. He would put aside his usual way of finding things out (beat, burn, kill, etc.) and play along even though he knew he would hate it. This wasn't a "usual" situation, he conceded. He would play the cat; waiting patiently and then springing when the time was optimal.

Dilandau sighed resignedly and lowered his tensed hand. He took the hand that held Celena's wrist and slipped his fingers back so that they clasped her hand.

"A most beautiful chain, milady. I think thee for such a divine gift," Dilandau said with a charming smile. He felt a lump of disgust slide down his throat. He then brought Celena's hand to his lips and kissed it. With his free hand, his balled it into a fist and closed it tightly, squeezing it so hard that his fingernails dug into the palm of his hands until he felt blood run down his fingers. It was reassuring to know that one could bleed in this surreal universe.

In contrast, Celena was _delighted_. She blushed and laughed gaily. Dilandau ignored the nausea he felt, and grinned with her. Celena then grabbed his other, bloody hand. She frowned at it for a second, then kissed the palm. Dilandau gasped and wrenched his hand away. His palm felt warm and tingly. He looked at it, and saw that there were no nail marks, and certainly no blood.

"How did you do that?" Dilandau asked with surprise, looking once again to Celena. She smiled enigmatically and took his hand again. She stepped backwards, and he allowed her to pull him along. Dilandau was going to have his answer. "How did you heal me?" he repeated.

"Because it's my dream," Celena said with childish pride. "Come play." Suddenly the darkness brightened and Dilandau held back a gasp as warm sunlight broke through, warming him. Grass suddenly sprouted under his bare feet and a tree grew right in front of his eyes. He finally felt the silky breeze that made Celena's golden hair dance.

Celena had allowed him into her dream.

Allowed _him._

Dilandau vowed he would change that. Until then…

Celena thrust a bunch of red roses into his hands.

…He would pick flowers.

And so every night Dilandau was thrust into Celena's dreams. He reluctantly played alongside her; picked too many flowers, rode frilly ponies, and danced endless waltzes. That was it. Celena lacked in the imagination department.

In other words, Celena Schezar gained a new best friend (who taught her lots of "neat!" stuff) and Dilandau Albatou was given the childhood he was robbed.

Dilandau hated every minute of it. As he taught Celena (the girl was so ill educated that Dilandau felt he had to teach her at least _something_) and influenced the girl, he felt his power over her grow. Instead of the blackness that used to enfold Dilandau during the day while Celena was awake, he began to see through her eyes. After a while, he could choose to wake up with Celena or not. Sometimes he stayed in the darkness, getting some much-needed sleep and planning his next move. But besides all this new power, he felt something else.

Celena tempered him.

That's when Dilandau decided he had to not wake up _with_ Celena, but wake up _as_ Celena.

And one day, he did.

~*~

Dilandau eased the door to Allen's room open. First he allowed his—her—eyes to adjust to the dimly lit bedroom, and then he looked for the famous Caeli Knight. He found Allen already in his bed (in all actuality it was a large lump in the bed he _assumed_ was Allen). Dilandau smiled. _Perfect_. It was only 10:00 at night, but the sleeping potion he had been slipping into Allen's food like clockwork was working wonderfully. It kept the man out of Dilandau's hair for the most part.

"Brother?" Celena's voice rang out. Dilandau missed his own voice.

"Celena?" Allen's doped voice replied. The bulge on the bed moved, and Allen's yellow head popped up. Dilandau almost reeled from its brightness and felt his bloodlust surge. Mentally he patted himself on the back, and then turned on his best acting skills (which, like most everything he did, were superb). As of now, everything he did was extremely critical. 

"I…I had another nightmare," Dilandau began feebly. He walked to the bed, stepping out of his abhorred shoes and making sure to shake severely. "They're getting worse." He sat down on the bed next to the bleary-eyed Allen.

"Oh Celena. Why don't you tell me about it?" Allen asked lovingly, putting an arm around his sister's shoulders. Dilandau resisted his instinct to recoil, and turned into Allen's touch, hugging him tightly around the waist. He buried his face in Allen's chest and forced himself to cry. 

"It was about _him_ again," Dilandau sobbed. He felt Allen's arms encircle his shoulders and he bit his bottom lip to keep from screaming. His mouth filled with blood, which he swallowed gratefully.

Blood is red. Dilandau concentrated on that fact.

"Shh, it will be alright, Celena," Allen whispered tiredly into Dilandau's ear. His hand flew to Celena's head, stroking the girl's pale blonde locks.

Dilandau flexed his calf and felt the dagger he had concealed in the ruffles of his stupid dress. Tonight was the night.

__

Oh yes Allen, it will be all right. Very soon.

~*~

The day Dilandau woke up in Celena's body was one of the most exhilarating, confusing, and terrifying (thought he'd _never_ admit it) moments of Dilandau's life.

Exhilarating because _he_ was in control again. He breathed in _real_ air. There wasn't any murky blackness that swallowed him, just the Schezar Manor. Dilandau had triumphed.

Confusing, since Dilandau didn't know exactly how to act around Allen and Gaddes (the sergeant had decided to stay with Allen during their military leave. He said he hadn't wanted to go home). Celena's intellect was light years lower then Dilandau's so he had to watch himself very carefully.

Terrifying, because Dilandau discovered he had breasts.

And he couldn't get rid of them.

For some reason, Dilandau _couldn't revert back to his own body_. No matter what happened, what he tried, he couldn't complete his revision. The closest he could get was a flicker of red in Celena's blue eyes, and that only happened when he was severely pissed (and, Dilandau made sure to note, it hurt like _hell_).

After an hour of deliberation, Dilandau finally realized that he had bonded too closely with Celena. As he was conquering the girl's mind, he had overlooked the fact that he—Dilandau shuddered—had come to love Celena. 

It was fitting, Dilandau supposed. He was a vain, self-absorbed person. He loved Celena because she was him; the small part of Dilandau where his gentleness and compassion were buried.

But Dilandau would rather eat rusty nails then admit to _that_. 

So he was left with only one option: separation.

When Dilandau had read the file he had stolen from Folken, he had a) screamed, b) drank a whole bottle of _vino_, c) smashed the bottle, and d) memorized the folder's contents. During the second reading, he had come across a few documents discussing separation.

It was a process that had been done on 10 "subjects" and only two had been successful. Dilandau did not like these odds, but he _was not_ going to stay in the current form he was in. besides, this made it more challenging, and Dilandau did not take the easy way out. The process was usually done on full-grown adults and a lot of preparation (via the Madoushi) had to be used on the "subject" to lessen the negative effects of the operation. Dilandau had neither the time to achieve adulthood or Madoushi. And there was that messy business of Fate. Dilandau had only one option of hoping to harness the power of Fate Alteration. The man who had the last of the power Hitomi Kanzaki had left on Gaea.

Van Fanel.

Which made the game even more interesting.

~*~

Last night was really what had prompted it all.

When Dilandau had taken over Celena's consciousness, he took over her subconscious as well. Celena was there of course, but the dreams that the two were submerged in were Dilandau's.

Needless to say, Dilandau's dreams did _not_ have flowers, ponies, or dancing. The former soldier bathed himself in warfare the minute he got the chance. He burned entire countries and had a jolly good time slaughtering the masses. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep Celena out of the subconscious that was rightfully hers, and she was terrified out of her mind. At first Dilandau truly didn't give a damn, but Celena grew so frightened that she became desperate and cried and clung to him, begging him to comfort her. Her desperate gave rise to power, and Dilandau began to _feel_ her terror. During the day Celena was there, in the back of his mind, reminding him of her fear.

So Dilandau relented. He gave up his fierce control of his own dreamland. He made sure Celena had a sense of security and that he didn't have to pick flowers. Instead he would educate Celena in the areas that he deemed important. He taught her the art of sword fighting and how to pilot a guymelef. He even went as far as to create harmless tourneys where Celena and he could battle faceless opponents (thought when the girl wasn't looking, Dilandau's opponent seemed to have an incredible amount of long blonde hair). He never fought her. Dilandau was good to those he cared about. In return he was adored. Adoration gave way to power. Power is everything.

But with Dilandau's slackening in his subconscious reign, the nightmares came. Vivid depictions of Dragonslayers bathed in their own blood and visions of Jajuka's demise. The latter terrified _both_ of them, though only Celena would ever know of Dilandau's fear. 

Sometimes during these nightmares, Dilandau simply lost control. Celena would disappear completely, leaving him utterly alone. He would run after her, vainly trying to regain control of his emotions; Celena was _his_ one sense of security. Before her there was the Dragonslayers and then Jajuka. If he lost her, he wouldn't make it.

Eventually he would find her, but most often she found him first. She'd come back to him, always. Celena would be calm then, the eye of the storm despite the fact that the two were still in the throes of the dream. She'd grab Dilandau's hand, perhaps give him a soothing hug (being touched Celena was no longer a problem. It was Dilandau's way of giving himself a hug) and whisper comforting things in his ear while he trembled. 

And the nightmares would end.

But Dilandau was then left with the cold, hard truth that he needed Celena. Needed her _badly_. He wondered if that was more frightening then the nightmares. Nightmares he could beat (and he did, make no mistake).

He would usually wake up then, not wanting to accept the facts. The minute those dreams were gone Dilandau snapped into control.

To find himself in Allen's bed.

The first time it happened, Dilandau had quite a shock to say the least. The second time he figured it out. Celena awoke the minute he let go during those horrifying and ran to Allen for help. After her "wonderful" big brother had calmed her, she then fell asleep and came back to him, all the time in Allen's safe and secure embrace.

None of this pleased Dilandau.

Which brings us back to the mishap of the previous evening.

After a week free of nightmares, Dilandau experienced the most frightening nightmare yet. Celena didn't appear in his subconscious. She was gone. He couldn't find her anywhere. He searched every corner of his—_her_—mind, but came up empty.

He woke up screaming. Which (in retrospect) Dilandau found to be a good thing. The minute he awoke, he felt Celena stir in the back of his mind like a drugged animal. Dilandau immediately regained control of himself. Celena was still there, and there was probably a good explanation for the entire mess.

That night, Dilandau realized just how much he depended on Celena. He was _merging_ with her. If she wasn't there, Dilandau couldn't function. He had had such a tight grip on everything, but now it was crumbling around him.

Dilandau had lost his edge.

And he'd be damned if he was going to lose anymore.

~*~

Dilandau allowed himself to be cradled in Allen's arms, though his tears had stopped. He just couldn't cry that long. It was easier to tremble, but Dilandau had stopped that a little while ago.

Time to get to work. Dilandau smiled.

"Brother?" Dilandau questioned, Celena's voice fragile-sounding. He pulled away to look at Allen with huge, puppy-dog eyes that he knew Celena could pull off so well.

"Yes?"

Dilandau put aside his disgust. Swiftly he rose up, reaching with his hands to draw in fistfuls of Allen's hair. _Yellow to red_. Then Dilandau parted his lips ever-so-slightly, closed his eyes, and locked the Knight in a full kiss, letting his own bitten lip bleed into Allen's mouth. _Yellow to red, yellow to red._

Dilandau felt giddy. He began to chuckle into Allen's stunned lips. He pulled away, making sure his face at least looked halfway—make that a third—innocent.

Allen opened his eyes, a look of horror painted on his face. Dilandau wished for a shadow-graph.

"C-Celena?" Allen questioned, his eyes searching.

Dilandau didn't answer. Instead he threw all of his weight into Celena's arms and upper body and pressed Allen backwards so that the knight fell on the bed. Dilandau fell with him, moving his hands to Allen's shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist in what he supposed was a most unladylike manner. He didn't really give a damn.

Dilandau dipped his head again, kissing Allen hard, Celena's teeth clacking against her brother's. He bit Allen's lip, letting the blood the two shared mingle openly in their mouths. Dilandau then broke away abruptly. 

"Just like I thought, you even kiss like a woman," Dilandau said, twisting Celena's voice with his very own mannerisms, making it sound like a ghost of his true voice.

"No," Allen stated, his eyes widening. Sleeve-boy had caught on to what was happening. Dilandau chuckled once, a hard and mocking sound.

"Oh yes. Did you miss me?" Dilandau asked, tilting his head to the side, putting on a mask of innocence that Celena (due to Dilandau) had lost a long time ago.

"I can't kill you," Allen said plainly.

"No shit," Dilandau said, feeling irritation with Allen's need for stating the obvious. "But I can kill you."

Allen's eyes bulged. "Celena!"

"She can't help you," Dilandau said. He smirked, but then he felt Celena push against him. She wanted to rise up, to help her beloved brother.

"Celena, fight him! You ca-"

Dilandau cut off Allen's cry by smacking him the across the jaw with two fists. It broke Allen's jaw, and Dilandau winced and grunted as he felt Celena's left hand crack and fracture. The time was now. He reached down and ripped the dagger from Celena's yellow dress. Allen rose up, his pain giving him even more strength then usual. Dilandau couldn't hold him down with a broken hand, so he had to end his fun prematurely. 

The hand that held the dagger flashed out.

Allen fell backwards on his huge bed. Dilandau fell with him once again, Celena's blue eyes huge and filled with malicious glee. Allen's eyes flared once, then fell shut, never to open again. Dilandau watched as blood ran from Allen's throat. It spilled out from his jugular, coating Allen's collarbone and shoulder. The blood slid off his neck and fell on Allen's yellow hair, mingling with the strands so that it appeared the man had hideous, sticky red highlights. Yellow to red.

Dilandau smiled from ear to ear. He dipped a hand down and touched the gash across Allen's throat, coating his hand in blood. He smiled.

Now the blood was on Celena's hands.

Dilandau laughed in his phantom voice and with a severe, jerking motion he raised the dagger and plunged it into Allen's heart. He leaned down and gave Allen one more detestable kiss and then turned on his heel. He then proceeded to walk out the door and never looked back, leaving Allen Crusade Schezar VIII to lie slain in his bed, killed by his own sister.

Perfect.

~*~


	2. Charlotte

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Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

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Chapter Two: Code of Chivalry

~*~

To His Majesty the King of Fanelia,

Van, I request your assistance immediately. Allen is slain. I need your help and Celena does too. Please, speak of this to no one and come as quickly as you can. I will explain everything once you get here.

Sincerely,

****

Sergeant Gaddes

Dilandau rolled the parchment up and tied it with a blue hair ribbon. Gaddes had _such_ terrible writing. He set the scroll carefully with the outgoing mail. 

Soon.

~*~

Goddamn Code of Chivalry.

Goddamn, useless, shitty, good-for-nothing, fucking Code of Chivalry.

Van was annoyed. Fanelia was only a week away from being completely rebuilt, and he had to leave. He had to follow the code. The code Allen had instilled in him at the destruction of the fort almost a year and a half ago. Though, Van _did_ feel guilty for being so selfish. Allen was a good person and a great Sergeant. Despite their obvious differences and, uh, "That Hitomi Thing," Van and Allen were friends. Van didn't exactly want to admit it, but he felt bad that Allen was dead.

So now he was in a carriage on his way to the Schezar Manor, only an hour away from reaching his destination. When he had first received Gaddes' letter he didn't understand why his presence was required. But now Van had come to the conclusion that something was up. Something wasn't right with the situation. Gaddes didn't sound like Gaddes. It was like someone had dictated to the man while he wrote. People don't write letters reporting someone's death like that. Something was wrong.

In Dilandau's words, "It's all about that 'something.'"

But Van didn't know that. Right now his main concern was what was going to happen to Celena. You couldn't exactly expect Gaddes to take care of her, but Van didn't know what he was supposed to do about it. He knew he couldn't put her in an orphanage. He thought of sending Millerna a note. Van was sure that the princess would be delighted to take care of Allen's younger sister. However, that would mean Celena would have to be taken care of by Millerna. Van didn't wish that on anyone. Or there was always Eries. But then Celena would probably spend the rest of her life crocheting. 

Van sighed. Too many decisions. Too many responsibilities. At least he didn't have Fanelia to worry about right now. Merle was taking care of things, and if she didn't know what to do there were a couple of advisors Van had personally picked out so everything should be running smoothly. 

The carriage hit a bump and Van smacked his head against the roof of the vehicle.

"YEOWCH!" 

Van rubbed his head gingerly. Damn driver. He should yell at the moron and fire his stupid ass. Van shook his head. _Stop being such an irritated prick. You have responsibilities just like everyone else. Stop your bitching._

Celena.

His mind kept returning to her. _Why in the hell is that?_ Van knew damn well why.

She was once Dilandau Albatou. Plain and simple.

Uh-huh. Simple was not the word.

Van _hated_ Dilandau. He was bloodthirsty, insane, and (most importantly) he was the reason Fanelia had to be rebuilt in the first place. Granted, Folken was the one who ordered the conquest, but it was Dilandau who went up and beyond the call of duty, incinerating the entire country in lethal flames. Van would not, could not, forgive him for that.

He wondered if he could forgive Celena.

Through Allen's letters, Van _knew_ that Celena had the body of a woman, yet the mind of a child. "Total innocence," Allen had written. She had no memory of Dilandau, and certainly none of his violent tendencies.

__

But, Van thought, _that doesn't change the past._

Van hit himself on the side of the head. He shouldn't hold an innocent responsible for the actions of a madman.

And, he supposed if he could forgive Folken, who went willingly, he could forgive Celena.

He supposed.

~*~

A day passed. 

Dilandau waited. 

And waited.

And waited.

Dilandau did not like waiting. In fact, he downright loathed it. But there really wasn't much to do anymore. All his toys were gone. 

He lay on her bed, cradling his bandaged right hand. Gaddes hadn't believed the story he had told about falling down the stairs. Dilandau didn't blame him. He probably wouldn't have believed it himself. Still, it had caused a problem. Gaddes had always been suspicious of Celena, even when the girl was truly herself and Dilandau was truly just a secondary personality that had yet to resurface. So Dilandau had to do a little minor modification with his plan. 

In other words, "Bye, bye Gaddes."

Pain flashed through Dilandau's right arm. "SHIT!"

He really shouldn't have shot that bow and arrow with an injured hand. He knew better. But it _was_ kind of fun. Dilandau would never forget the look on Gaddes face when a fun "game" of hide-and-seek in the Schezar garden turned into a fatal hunt. The guy didn't even know of his beloved commander's death. Too slow, too slow. Dilandau had no use for slow people. 

__

*** Blood pooled from the wound where the arrow had penetrated Gaddes' chest, a centimeter above the heart. The feathered tip of the arrow pulsed with every beat of the vital organ. His hands were tied, his legs riddled with arrows. Dilandau would have preferred a moving target for the end, but his hand prevented him from getting in decent shots.

"Boss will get you for this," Gaddes said, looking up at Dilandau with hatred in his eyes. He didn't even seem to mind the fact that he was about to die because he had total faith in his "Boss." 

"He has to be alive to do that," Dilandau replied with a smirk. Gaddes' jaw dropped. Dilandau took Celena's hand, the one with Allen's dried blood on it, and ripped the arrow downward, killing the Sergeant so quickly that Gaddes didn't even have time to scream. ***

Dilandau didn't understand how he was going to explain Gaddes', ahem, little "accident" to Van, but he figured that a well-played act of Celena's childish mannerisms would cover most anything.

But Van was not like anything Dilandau had ever seen. He had managed to cut his face. His beautiful, terrifying, warrior's face. Dilandau was untouchable! Van had broken rule number one. No one else ever had. 

And as far as Dilandau was concerned, no one ever would.

The game had gone up a notch. The critical point of the situation was only a carriage ride away.

That and a reversion of a Fate Alteration. No big deal.

Dilandau let a high-pitched laugh escape his lips. Only Celena heard the nervousness it hid.

~*~

Van stepped out of the carriage the minute the vehicle stopped, much to the dismay of the coach's driver. The small annoying man reminded the Fanelian king of Dryden's mouse-man assistant. The look on his face was one of pure horror. How dare a King step out of his carriage without someone opening the door for him? What of his image? Van thought that if he couldn't get out of a carriage without assistance, well then he really wasn't suited for ruling a kingdom.

"Take the carriage back to Fanelia. I will call you when I need you," Van said in a no-nonsense manner. The man's eyebrows shot up, but he knew better then to go against the order of a monarch. Van wondered if the man (whose name he _thought_ was Horstis, but he couldn't be sure) was going to have a heart attack worrying over the image Van presented.

"But there are only the two of us here. If I left that would mean that you would be by yourself, Your Majesty," Horstis stated, his voice trembling. The irritation Van felt was growing.

"Congratulations, you can count. My orders remain," Van said harshly. He reached up and dragged down his bag, then motioned for the opened-mouthed servant to leave. Horstis went as white as a sheet and shot up into the driver's seat of the carriage. He saluted and turned the carriage, driving the poor horses as fast as they would go.

__

I'm such a bastard.

Van sighed for the second time that day and straightened his tunic. He had decided to wear his old red shirt and tan pants, figuring Celena would be reassured by the familiarity of the clothing. Van liked it too. It was nice to slip back into nostalgia. It didn't matter that the clothes reminded him of a time where the world was at war, his brother a traitor, and his homeland destroyed.

They took him back to Hitomi. 

Van, for a small second, forgot completely about his surroundings, Allen's death, and the problems at Fanelia. He closed eyes and imagined the face of the girl he knew he would love for the rest of his life. Green eyes and honeyed hair. Van fingered the pendant he _always_ wore around his neck so that he would never forget. Like he could forget her.

But a shrill feminine scream broke through his brief reverie. Van's eyes snapped open and he went running to the door of the Schezar Manor. He pounded on the door twice and then grew impatient and broke it down when no one answered. He ran into the building at a breakneck speed, and then realized that he didn't have a clue where he was going. He stopped for a second, hoping to hear another scream. It came. Van darted down the hallway, turned right and went through a door that led to an outside garden. 

"Celena! Gaddes!" Van called out. Another scream came. He ran to a small grove of apple trees. He ducked into them, wishing to the gods that he had brought his sword with him to the garden. He skidded to a stop as he came upon the scene.

In front of Van was Gaddes, lying in a pool of his own blood. At least, he hoped it was his own blood. Van could see the arrows protruding from the man's chest and legs. Kneeling in front of Gaddes, in between Van and the body, was a girl. Her back was to him, so all Van could see was the back of her pale-gold hair. He glanced to Gaddes and saw the look of pure terror upon the man's face. Van winced and looked away.

"Celena?" He questioned, stepping up to the girl and placing a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her sobbing, and knew that he had to get her away from this place. God knows what had happened to Gaddes.

At Van's touch, the girl screamed in terror and threw herself forward, landing on Gaddes. She clutched at the dead man's tunic with a bandaged hand and buried her head in his neck.

"Gaddes, wake up! Help me!" She begged to the Sergeant's deaf ears. Van winced. He crouched down on all fours, wanting to get down on her level. He also wanted to get her away from the gruesome sight. This couldn't be healthy.

"Shh, Celena. I won't hurt you," Van said slowly, speaking as softly and kindly as he could. Celena didn't reply, just sobbed into Gaddes throat. Slowly he made his way over to her. Gently he reached out and grasped her shoulder again. He rubbed her back, remembering how Folken did the same when Van used to have nightmares all those blissful years ago. "Come on Celena, we have to get out of the garden. My name is Van, I'm one of Allen's friends. You can trust me." 

"B-Brother!" Celena exclaimed. She turned to Van and looked at him with ears in her eyes. Blue eyes. Then she launched herself forward, flinging herself onto him. "I miss my brother!" She sobbed, placing her head on his shoulder. Van instinctively wrapped his arms around her. He stood up and began walking, halfway pulling Celena with him for she only took steps when she remembered to walk and cry on his shoulder at the same time. 

Van didn't have a damn clue what was going on. 

Someone had killed Gaddes. Someone had killed Allen only a day before. Celena was all alone, and she was crying hysterically in his arms. The latter he _really_ didn't know to deal with. All he knew was that they had to get out of the garden, for the archer who had killed the Sergeant might still be lurking around, though Van doubted it.

And then Celena collapsed.

Without warning, the girl went limp, falling away from Van like a dead leaf. He reached out and caught her, his reflexes catching on. Swiftly he lifted her up and looked her over, wanting to make sure that an arrow hadn't hit her. Celena was fine though, except for the fact that she was unconscious. Van decided that seeing Gaddes was just too much for her. He walked through the doors that led to the inside of the Schezar Manor. That took a little bit, since it required a lot of maneuvering to turn the doorknob with Celena in his arms. He was surprised at how different it felt then holding Hitomi. That, he concluded, was because Celena was a lot taller then Hitomi. 

But Van didn't have time to deliberate over Celena's height. He needed to find her a bed. And he needed to find some answers.

~*~

__

"What happened to Gaddes, Dilandau-chan? He was all covered in blood. What happened? Please tell me!" Celena shouted, clinging to Dilandau's arm. He was sitting in the throne room of the Vione_. At least, he was sitting on his surreal, "dream" throne on the "dream" _Vione._ Dilandau had managed to combine the random dreamland and his imagination. He was wearing his old armor, feeling all of his old pride, arrogance, and power. It was truly a stroke of genius to let Celena be the first to meet Van again. Let her give him that irreversible first impression. Too bad she had to see what had happened to Gaddes. _

"Dilandau-chan, can you help Gaddes?" 

Dilandau brought his arms around Celena's waist and pulled her into his lap as if she were but a small child. She leaned against him, resting her head against the smoothness of his black leather jacket. He left his arms around her frame, loosely bending them.

"I can't help him."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't need any help. It was his time."

"Time for what?"

"For death." Celena nodded, accepting everything as a child would.

"Are you going to die?" Dilandau smiled. He bent his head and kissed Celena's golden head.

"No, you're going to help me live. You and Van."

Celena frowned. "Is that that boy who found me in the garden?"

"Yes," Dilandau replied. He lifted Celena off his lap and sat up. Immediately their surroundings changed to that of the stark abysmal plain of their shared mind. "I have to go meet him now. You stay here and sleep. You've had a long day." 

Dilandau conjured up a plush bed in his imagination. He took Celena's hand and walked her over to the bed and pulled back the covers. She obediently climbed in and he pulled up the sheets, tucking her in. He put a hand over her eyes, closing them.

"Angels on your body," Celena whispered. It was an inside saying between the two of them that meant basically the same thing as wishing someone good health. Or good luck. Good something. 

"Angels on your body," Dilandau repeated, then opened his eyes. 

Dilandau looked around his surroundings. Van had put Celena in her actual room. He wondered how long it took the boy-king to find it. And, unsurprisingly, he had kept a vigil at her bedside. 

Van Fanel was sitting in a chair, no more then a few feet away from his greatest enemy of all time. Dilandau could barely breathe. Unfortunately (for whom, he didn't know yet) Van was asleep. His feet were resting on a suitcase Dilandau assumed was his own, and his head was tilted to the side, his raven-colored hair falling over his eyes.

__

What does he do? Cut it with a lawn mower? Probably not, since Fanelia doesn't have_ lawn mowers. _

Dilandau rose silently. Quickly he stepped out of the bed. He walked over to Van, resisting the urge to kill him. He had to have him alive for the separation to work. Dilandau crouched down beside him, taking the other boy in. Van had grown since he'd seen him last. And he had filled out, but only a little bit. He wondered vaguely what his own body would look like now. Van was 16 now, as well. Dilandau still had a color and a half to go. It was hard to believe that the King was older then him. Oh well, Dilandau was still taller than Van. Celena wasn't, but he was—would be.

His heart was pounding.

He could kill him now. Make Van pay for everything he'd ever done to him. The boy would never even see it coming.

Which is precisely why Dilandau wouldn't do it. He wanted to fight Van face to face. He wanted to see the horror on Van's face as he fell, death taking him in her black clutches. 

Carefully Dilandau took a hand and brushed the hair out of Van's eyes, revealing most of the king's right cheek. A scar would look nice there. He rose to his feet. It was time to work again.

"Hello."

Van's eyes snapped open.

~*~

Blue eyes, not green.

Golden hair, not honey-brown.

Celena.

Not Hitomi.

Van had just opened his eyes to greet not his ladylove (which he had been dreaming about and was _just_ getting to the good part…ahem) but Allen's younger sister.

__

I do believe this is the part where I groan.

"Hello, you're Van, right?" Celena asked. She stood above the King, her pale blue dress stained with Gaddes blood. 

"Yes. I was sent here by…Gaddes. What happened?" Van asked, standing up. As he rose, he expected Celena to take a step back so that he could have room to stand, but she did not. The two stood, noses almost touching as if she were challenging him. He looked uncertainly into her eyes. "Total innocence" lay in them.

Van kicked his chair back, stepping backwards to get some breathing space. 

"Gaddes," she said softly. She turned her head away, looking out the window towards the twilight-streaked sky. "I don't know. I simply found him there."

Something was not right. When Van had come to the garden, this girl was hysterical. She was incapacitated with frightened delirium. And now it was as if nothing was wrong. 

Celena turned back to him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong with me!" Van replied defensively, his voice harsh. Celena's eyes widened. "Sorry. Are you all right? I mean, you're all alone."

__

*** "Jajuka! Don't leave me alone!" ***

Celena began to shake uncontrollably. _Damn_, Van thought. Wrong thing to say. He tensed himself for a collapse that wouldn't come.

"Allen's dead," Celena spat, clutching her hand to her breast. Her knees bent briefly, and then she drew herself up. "_Red,_" She whispered, her head bowed. Then her head snapped up and she looked at him, a resolute strength glowing in her eyes. Van knew that her strength was not her own, but belonged to someone far more insane. He backpedaled furiously, but forgot about the chair behind him and tripped over the legs of the damned piece of furniture and fell into the seat.

"Dilandau," he whispered, looking up at Celena with…well, not fear, but something he couldn't name. Something close to hatred.

"I am _not_ Dilandau!" Celena screamed loudly, causing Van to raise his eyebrows practically off his face. She walked briskly over to where he sat and threw her hands onto the arms of the chair. Van hastily moved his own arms away, placing them on his knees tensing to defend himself. But if Dilandau was truly in there, Van knew that he couldn't hurt Celena.

__

But why the hell not? I don't even know the girl. I have no ties with her. 

Of course, that goddamn Code of Chivalry.

"Do you see him in my eyes?" Celena asked, her voice high and shrill. She thrust her face close to Van's, so that this time their noses actually did touch. Van didn't even need to look in those blue orbs. He could feel Dilandau's rage. "Just like everyone else. No one believes me. I don't blame them," Celena whispered, her eyes softening. She sighed and stood up.

Van reached out and caught her wrist. 

"What are you talking about?" He said brusquely. Celena didn't even look at him, but returned her gaze to the window she had been looking out of earlier.

"Allen's dead. Gaddes is dead. Dilandau's…Dilandau's all I have," Celena whispered. She pulled her wrist away from the shocked Fanelian King. "He's all I've ever had."

Van thought frantically. She couldn't mean…she wasn't going to help him.

"No!" 

Celena turned to look at him, her eyes seeing him for what could have passed as the first time. "What?"

"You are _not_ bringing that monster back!" Van commanded, standing up. 

"Monster. Allen…Gaddes, I'm sorry," The girl sad softly, looking to Van in a way that reminded him of a lost child.

And then it clicked. Dilandau had done it. He had killed both of them. 

__

Oh God.

Celena saw the spark that Van felt in his eyes, and nodded, her eyes pleading.

"You shouldn't be sorry for things you didn't do," Van said softly, not knowing what else to say. What could you say to a girl who had (but really truly had not) killed two men, one her own brother?

"Why not? I did do it. I'm sorry just the way you are," Celena said, folding her arms. It wasn't a show of defiance, just a comforting motion, as if she were holding herself up.

Van frowned. "What am I sorry for?"

Celena looked up with such disgust in her eyes it almost made Van jump.

"You're not sorry for the Dragonslayers' deaths? For Jajuka's? You're not sorry for letting her go?" Celena asked, jabbing Van with each question. The last one hurt the most. Especially under the conditions…Van wouldn't think about those conditions.

"I am sorry," he said slowly, truthfully. Still, sometimes late at night, he would see their faces as he killed them. Especially the one boy, the one that looked like a cherub with his blonde hair and blue eyes. It was the same one that Allen had captured to retrieve Van that day on the _Vione_ so long ago. Celena saw the look on his face, and she softened her own features. She gave Van a look that reminded him of a child sizing some stranger up. She stepped closer to him, closing the distance between them. Then, as if it were the most normal thing to do in the world, she bowed her head, letting it rest on his shoulder and clutching at his shirt with clenched hands.

"Help me. Please, help me," Celena whispered softly. Van, stunned at the sudden turn of events, stiffly raised a hand and patted the girl's back.

"H-how?"

"I need your help later, but, for now—I'm so sorry—could…would you…just…hold me?" She whispered, her voice fading with each word, so that the end of her sentence was barely audible. Van didn't reply, he didn't even wonder what "help" he might have to provide later. He simple put his arms around Celena, letting her relax in his grasp. This was simple; this was easy…this was something he could do. Celena's situation was way beyond his control and _way_ over his head. Folken should be here. 

Van closed his eyes, and let himself soften in Celena's grasp. In his mind's eye, it wasn't Celena anymore, but Hitomi. It wasn't the musk and vanilla smell of Celena's perfume in his nostrils, but Hitomi's sandalwood and rain-like scent. This is what he really wanted. He wanted Hitomi in his arms, relying on him, not the other way around. How he wished that she wanted him, loved him; wanted to stay with him.

But some wishes never come true.

~*~

Van stood on the roof of his palace, late at night. He stood on the roof for it was the closest thing to the Mystic Moon. To Hitomi. 

Van knew he was a lovesick fool. He also knew there wasn't a way to get around it.

Slowly he drew the picture of Hitomi in his mind, along with her pendant, which he had clasped in his fingers. Those funny shoes, the bunchy socks, long slender legs—Van blushed—the short skirt and silly jacket…and then her face, with those huge green eyes and honey-brown hair. She was beautiful.

And then the connection hit.

**__**

Van?

__

Yes? Van whispered in his mind. His thoughts had reached hers again! 

**__**

You have the worst timing. It's three o' clock in the morning over here.

Oh, sorry. Were you sleeping? Stupid question. He could feel Hitomi shaking her head.

**__**

Yes. What's wrong?

I never said anything was wrong.

****

I can tell there's a problem. What is it?

I, well…Fanelia's almost rebuilt and the people...

****

The people… Hitomi prodded him gently.

__

The people want me to marry. I knew this was going to happen! They want an heir as soon as possible, so that in case something like the burning of Fanelia ever happens again, they won't be left stranded. I never knew how many hopes were riding on me _during the Great War. Me, of all people. But I obviously don't_ want_ to marry anyone besides…besides you._

Hitomi was silent.

__

Hitomi?

****

Van, I…

__

I'm so sorry Hitomi…

****

I knew this was going to happen as well. And I think that you…you should…

Van felt her crying. Or maybe it was himself. 

**__**

You should do it.

Van's heart lurched insanely. That was not what he was expecting at all!

__

Hitomi! What are you saying? I am not_ going to marry some foreigner whose name I can't pronounce! Hell no! I want you, not anyone else!_

****

I can't come back Van. You know that as well as I do. My wishes, my wishes have too much power on Gaea. You have to do what is best for your country, and if that is to provide an heir, then provide an heir.

I love you. Van knew now that the tears were his. 

**__**

I love you too, Van. 

I won't do it.

****

Yes, you will. You need to continue on with life over there, and I…I need to get on with my life here.

What do you mean?

I mean…I mean that I'm going to go out with boys over here and be just like everyone else! Like a normal 16-year-old girl would! I love you Van, but it hurts so much, so very much. I think we should not keep touch anymore. Just forget everything and not remind ourselves of a love that would never work.

Van was struck. He couldn't believe his ears—his mind. Hitomi was actually trying to say goodbye, forever.

__

Hitomi, you don't mean that! You can't just give up like that! That's not fair and it's not right!

****

I can't handle this anymore, Van. I was never as strong as you were. You'll get over it, I promise. I will, eventually. But I can't let you go if I know that I can reach out and fall back on you whenever I want to! It's a burden for you and it's harmful for both of us. So I'm going to say goodbye now. Please, please don't try to contact me again.

"Hitomi!" 

Van screamed into the night like a wounded animal. Furiously he beat against her mind with his own, trying to get through to her. But there was a wall there now, a wall that he couldn't break down. 

Hitomi was gone. 

~*~

****

A/N: So, how are you liking so far? I'm trying to keep everyone in character, but I'm afraid everyone has gone OOC (Out of Character) already. *Sigh* I guess you can't do everything! Oh, I just want to let you all know that I have begun to watch the anime "The Slayers." Just so you know, I find Lina Inverse annoying and tiresome, though she does have her good points. Gourry is an Allen carbon copy, and Zelgadis kicks ass! Those are all the characters I know so far, so don't spoil me! I am pure, damnit! *grin* Please R&R!

~*~


	3. Aiden

**Behind Enemy Lines**

By: rainjewel

_Chapter Three: (Blood)lust and Separation_

~*~

"May your souls forever rest with Jeture and Great Mother Gaea," Van said, finishing up his improvised eulogy. Dilandau watched stone-faced as the "funeral" came to an end. He hadn't said anything throughout the entire ordeal, and was beginning to become very, _very_ bored. 

After Celena's "hold me" episode (which he had only done to cement the image of Celena as a childish girl...and to find a nice spot to stick a knife) Van had asked what had become of Allen's body. Dilandau said nothing had been done, for Gaddes had died before anything _could_ be done. Van had immediately left the room, running to Allen's room at what Dilandau assumed was a horrifying pace. He remembered grinning, hearing the boy-king's retching at what must have been a gruesome sight. Van must have wrapped and dragged the fallen Knight (and Gaddes as well, can't forget that good old boy) down into the Schezar's personal graveyard before he had called Celena down, spouting nonsense about a funeral.

"Why isn't Allen going in the Asturian graveyard with Mother and Father? Why aren't you telling Gaddes' family about his death?" Dilandau had asked in his best Celena voice. Van had looked at him so sadly.

"Because then I would have to explain how they died, and that would cast a lot of suspicion on you, Celena."

Gods, this was _so_ much fun. Dilandau knew that Van was certain that _dearest_ Celena _did_ have that _heathen_ Dilandau running around inside her. And yet, he was still helping her. What a _Dear_ _Heart_. It made him sick to his stomach. Dilandau knew that Van was still mooning over that Mystic Moon bitch. Perhaps he could pull his heartstrings and really fuck with the boy's emotions. That would make the game more interesting.

But Dilandau had had enough of playing kissy-face to people that he couldn't stand. If he was up for it, he was up for it. Right now he was going to concentrate on what was going to happen tonight:

Separation.

~*~

Van threw the last of the dirt on the two unmarked graves. His heart hurt. His soul hurt. And damnit, his _arms_ hurt like crazy! Gods, Allen and Gaddes deserved better then this. He vowed that the minute Celena was sorted out, he would have the biggest goddamn funeral in all of Gaea. 

Celena. She was so hard to figure out. One minute she was a little girl, crying and needing protection, and the next minute she was cool as ice, and sharp as a razor. He suspected Dilandau had some part in the latter. Van couldn't believe that he was putting himself through all this hell for his archenemy. It didn't make any sense. Nothing, actually, made sense anymore.

"Van?"

He turned and mopped his brow with a gloved hand. Celena stood, looking down at the two fresh mounds of dirt with an unreadable emotion upon her face.

"What is it?" he asked, his breathing ragged.

"Do you remember how I said I was going to need your help later?" She said, her eyes snapping up to his, focusing in with an intensity that Van was trying to get used too.

"Yes."

Celena smiled. "Then don't make dinner plans."

"Huh?" Van was puzzled. Dinner plans? It was almost dark outside, who would eat dinner at this hour?

"Never mind," Celena said, her voice hiding a chastising undertone. She extended a hand, and pulled Van close to her. She looked into his eyes for a moment, analyzing him. Van took a deep breath, feeling rather shaky for some reason. "Come with me," she finally said.

Van nodded and began to follow Celena. She marched through the gate and into the walled gardens surrounding the actual house. She walked with determination, but she wasn't walking fast. Interesting.

"Celena, how am I going to help you?" Van asked as they walked up the steps to the front door. The girl stopped, her hand resting on the doorknob. She looked to Van with such aa _hunger_ in her eyes that he almost stepped back.

"I simply need you to take that pendant there," Celena placed a cool, bandaged (now how did she get that?) hand on Van's sweaty chest, her palm covering the pendant. He shivered. "And use it to wish me the best of luck. To wish that I can rid my body and mind of Dilandau Albatou. You must wish that exact wish. That's all you have to do."

Van looked down at Celena's hand where Hitomi's pendant lay, and then back up to the young Schezar woman. He felt strange. "Wish that you can rid Dilandau of-"

"My body..." Celena cut in, placing another hand on Van's side, "...and mind." Her hand traveled up, never leaving his skin until she cupped his cheek in her cool palm. He was vaguely aware of how close the two of them had become all of a sudden. He could make out every eyelash surrounding Celena's baby blues, and he could see the fading sunlight dancing on her golden curls that were hid inside a dark blue cloak. Van reached out and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. If he leaned forward, just a little bit, he could...

"Body," he whispered, completely overcome, "and mind." He reached up and pushed the cloak's hood back, revealing the golden ringlets. The sight of them made something in Van burst like a breaking dam. His heart seemed to accelerate to twice it's normal speed and his head began to spin. He hadn't felt this way since...

_...Hitomi..._

Van felt himself leaning forward, and immediately jerked back. His hand slid from the back of Celena's neck and he wiped some imaginary dust on his pants. 

"I think I can handle that," he whispered gruffly, bowing his head. He felt Celena's hands slide away from his body. He could feel his body temperature was slowly coming back down...though something else wasn't. 

"Well," Celena said brightly, "I'm glad you're _up_ to it!" 

Van snapped his head up to look at her with obvious shock. But he was greeted by a vision of her back as she opened the door and walked through it. After a few footsteps she turned back around to him. 

"Coming?" Van shut his mouth, blushed furiously, and followed Celena up into the second level of the house. And then he began to think.

_Was it just me or did she just try to seduce me? She's so childish though...though gods, she doesn't _look_ childish. Damn Fanel! Keep your head screwed on! Seduce, aren't we jumping to conclusions. _

Van looked up from his shoes and looked at Celena's retreating back.

_Well, if she just tried to seduce me...I think it might have work--_

"We're here." Celena's voice broke through.

"W-what?" Van shook his head. They were at Allen's door. Oh hell no. 

Celena turned around and looked at him, worry showing in her eyes. She took off her cloak and dropped it on the floor. Van saw goosebumps prickle on her bare arms.

"I'm going to go in this room, and all I need for you to do is to stand out here and do as I told you. Please do not enter this room until I say otherwise, or it might not work," Celena instructed. Van heard Dilandau's commanding ways shining through her orders. He nodded.

"Is it going to hurt?" Van asked. 

"I don't know," Celena replied thoughtfully. She frowned at him. "I might not make it through this."

"You're Allen's sister and you spent ten years of your life as Dilandau. You can definitely make it," Van said, hoping he was sounding reassuring. The ache in his confused heart hurt even worse. Celena smiled at his comment.

The girl stepped close to him again. Van decided to not back away. "You're probably going to kill me for this, but if I don't make it..." Celena trailed off and leaned forward, giving him the first kiss of his young life. Van, for an instant, forgot about a certain green-eyed girl and gave into her. She was here, in the flesh and she (he thought) wanted him. Let him have this false heaven.

Celena pulled away, her full lips more mesmerizing then ever. "There," she stated, sounding out of breath, "You can try to kill me later." She leaned down and kissed the pendant that lay upon Van's breast, making him inhale sharply. Celena then stood up and smiled at him, then opened the door to Allen's room and slipped inside.

Van wrapped the pendant in a fist. He didn't know what to feel towards Celena, and for once he didn't know what to feel towards Hitomi. But, even though there were anxieties lurking in his confused heart, he knew he was going to help Celena.

_I wish..._

~*~

Dilandau shut the door behind him, an insane (ha, ha) grin upon Celena's face. Gods, that was funny. He had managed to get the Brat King to fall in love (or at least a healthy amount of lust) with Celena.

_Well, Van Fanel, I hope you had a good time, for that is all you'll ever get._

Speaking of which, it was time to get down and dirty.

Quickly Dilandau walked over to Allen's closet. He pushed through the many white, pressed shirts (some had puffed sleeves, some did not) and kicked the deceased man's boots out of the way. Gods, it _reeked _of Allen's cologne. Dilandau wrinkled his nose. He reached up with a hand and felt along the back shelf. He couldn't see too much for Allen (damnit) was taller then Dilandau and the shelf was a lot higher then Celena could manage. 

Finally though, his hand hit leather. Dilandau held back a shout of joy. He pulled the leather jacket gently down, as one might a crystal vase. Deftly he caught the spiked shoulder guards and plated overskirt as they to came crashing down. Dilandau reached up one more time and grabbed his boots and soft, lavender undershirt. Surprisingly, his red boxers where in the pile too. Dilandau giggled. Only Allen would keep those. Too bad Celena had dropped his diadem on the battlefield so many colors ago. Dilandau raised his treasure to his face, breathing in the smell of Zaibach: its power, its prestige, and its genius. All of these were his again.

Dilandau walked over the bed (Dear Van had stripped it so only the bare mattress was leftno matter, the bloodstains were still there). Carefully he laid his armor on the bed, and then turned and walked to the center of the room. He closed his eyes and spread his arms out, and then he brought his elbows swiftly into his sides, clenching his fists. As he did that, he retreated into Celena's body. The action did nothing to help his situation but he did it anyway.

He felt Celena sweep past him as she sought to take control of her body. Dilandau tensed and reached out with his mind and grabbed onto her spirit. He jerked her downward with a force that hurt them both. Slowly her form came into view, as did his. Both stood in damnable abysmal blackness. 

"What'swhat's happening?" Celena asked. Dilandau furrowed his eyebrows, feeling the strain of holding Celena down. He pulled her close to him, hugging her fiercely to him as a lover might. He heard her gasp in pain at how strongly he was holding her. For some reason he felt sorry.

"I need you to do something for me," Dilandau said through painfully clenched teeth. Gods it hurt. 

"What?"

"Push against me. Want to be free, Celena. Want to control your own body. Want me to be free as well. Can you do that?" he whispered into the girl's ear. This was _not _the way such delicate matters should be handled. He was relying on the wishes of a boy and the fragile will of a handicapped girl. Gods. 

"Of course, Dilandau-chan," Celena said, hugging him back. "When should I begin?"

"Now," he whispered. And then Celena's will surged up and Dilandau pushed against it as hard as he could.

_I wish for Celena to rid her body and mind of Dilandau Albatou_

Red flashed everywhere around Dilandau, and Van's words screamed in his head.

_I wish for Celena to rid her body and mind of Dilandau Albatou_

_Well, I suppose I _did_ want red. _Dilandau cackled bitterly.

_I wish for Celena to rid her body and mind of Dilandau Albatou_

Pain washed over Dilandau in huge crimson waves. He clutched at his body, but he couldn't stop it. That's when he realized the screams were his, not Van's chanting.

_I wish for Celena to rid her body and mind of Dilandau AlbatouI wish for Celena to rid her body and mind of Dilandau AlbatouI WISH FOR CELENA TO RID HER BODY AND MIND OF DILANDAU ALBATOU!_

Dilandau screamed one last time as the pain grew to such intensity that red was replaced with blackness and he felt himself hit something hard as stone. And then there was nothing.

_***_

_Alone. He didn't want to be alone! Who was that fucking little girl? Oh gods, he was scared. What was happening? Why couldn't he move!?_

_"The patient has become unstable! The Fate Alteration wasn't successful. He's going to hurt himself if he keeps this up!_

_"Chesta! Gatti! Don't leave me!" Oh fuck there was the needle. No! Not that goddamn needle! Where were his Dragonslayers? _

_"AAAHH!!"_

_***_

Dilandau groaned and opened his eyes. He was lying on a wooden floor. Around him were the smells of blood and men's cologne. Where wasAllen's room? Yes, that was it. Groggily he stood up, his legs shaking under him. Dilandau looked down at them, and then realized he was naked. Dilandau looked up and scratched his head. Now why was he?

_Wait just a fucking second._ Dilandau looked back down. That certainly didn't _look_ like Celena down there. And then everything fell into place.

It had worked! Gods, he was back! The former commander looked around the room, ecstasy apparent in his eyes. Red, crimson eyes. Those very same eyes looked down to the ground, and there he saw Celena lying on the floor. Quickly he leaned down but fell on his knees, too weak to support himself. The girl was on her back, unconscious. A small red circle of blood was forming on her stomach. Dilandau quickly ripped the dress from the bodice down (it wasn't as if there was anything there he hadn't seen before) and took a look at the wound. A long gash reached across the spot precisely where Celena's uterus was. Dilandau snorted.

His mother was a 15-year-old girl who had the mentality of a 5-year-old. Figures.

Dilandau reached out to touch the wound, praying to the gods that it wasn't fatal. As his fingers touched the gash Dilandau felt a great surge of pain in his gut. He clutched a hand to his stomach. Interesting. He knew that his soul and Celena's would be linked for all time since when he was "birthed" he had taken half of hers. He knew that if Celena were to die, he would kick the bucket as well. But he hadn't known that he would be able to feel her physical pain as well. Dilandau hoped it was only temporary.

Quickly he grabbed his undershirt from the bed and tore it into long strips and wrapped it around Celena's midsection, grimacing as he felt the discomfort of the bandages. The cut wasn't deep (which surprised him) and Celena should heal from it in no time. 

Once he had finished tending to Celena, Dilandau decided it was time to get dressed. He stood up and slipped his boxers and pants on quickly and then pulled on his metal boots. He felt the familiar weight on his feet and grinned. He tugged on his jacket and snapped his on his overskirt, but he didn't bother buttoning it. He then fastened his armored shoulder guards on, feeling the heaviness of the metal that made his shoulders want to slump forward. Dilandau grinned, standing straight and tall. He slipped on his armored gloves. Gods, he felt glorious. Now, now it was time for the mirror. Slowly he turned, feeling his pride and beauty bursting from him. He walked over, listening to the click of his boots. Then he looked in the mirror. 

Dilandau gasped. There was his silver hair, shining and his bangs curling perfectly at the ends. There were his garnet eyes, glowing with fire and defined so wonderfully by thick lashes. There were his smiling lips and perfect teeth. There was his alabaster skin, perfectly translucent and rare. And there was The Scar. Dilandau frowned. He raised a hand and stroked the marred cheek. 

_Oh Van, you are going to get yours. I'm back, and I'm going to make you pay for everything you've done to me._

Dilandau turned and walked back to Celena. He bent down and picked her up, wrapping her arms around his neck. With one arm he slipped his dog tags from her neck and put them around his own. He'd never taken them off. Dilandau was dismayed to find that he was having a hard time carrying her. The separation had taken most of his strength away. 

Which only meant that he was going have to work a little harder and a lot quicker.

The albino boy turned around and walked over to Allen's sword rack. He let Celena's feet drop to the floor and snatched his sword away from the late Knight's own blades. Using some inventive maneuvering he fastened the sword around his waist. He then unsheathed the blade. He was surprised to see that Allen had taken care of the sword in—Dilandau smiled—his "absence." A thought crossed his mind. Dilandau used his teeth and took his glove off his left hand. He then quickly swiped at the blade with his bare hand, making a small shallow cut across his palm. Celena whimpered. Dilandau took her same hand (the unbandaged one) and pressed the center of the girl's hand. She cried out in pain.

_What you do to one side you must do to the other. _

Dilandau raised his cut hand to his lips and lapped at the wound with his tongue. Fantastic! The blood tasted just like his own. He sucked the wound dry and then put his glove back on, sheathing his sword as well. He then picked Celena up again and walked to the door. 

Dilandau took a deep breath. This was going to be classic.

"Van!" he screamed in the highest pitch he could manage.

The door burst open.

~*~

_..I wish for Celena_

"Van!" Celena's scream stopped him in mid-wish. Immediately Van grabbed the doorknob and burst through the door.

"Cele—Dilandau!"

Van skidded to a halt. In front of him stood Dilandau Albatou and in his arms was Celena. The Zaibach soldier's red eyes were full of masochistic delight. Shit.

"Hello Van," Dilandau said gaily. He lifted Celena and extended the girl out to him. Van reflexively reached out and grabbed Celena as quickly as he could. The minute she was in his arms he held her close to him, trying to protect her from Dilandau. Though, the other boy didn't seem to interested, for the minute Celena was out of his arms Dilandau stepped passed him so quickly that Van didn't even see it coming at first. However he turned swiftly, following Dilandau's every move.

"How did youhow are you" Van whispered, regaining some of his wits. Dilandau didn't answer but cocked his head to the side and put his hands on his hips so that his jacket was pushed back and his bare stomach showed through. Van scowled. The bastard was flaunting the fact that Van couldn't do a thing to him. Van knew Dilandau could cut him down right now if he chose to do so, but he couldn't even touch him.

Dilandau motioned to Celena. "She'll heal shortly. Lay her down and dress her wound...Oh, and keep your paws to yourself."

Van felt his eyes widen with rage, but he looked down to Celena. The top of her dress was ripped and around her lower waist was a lavender cloth. A thin line of blood spotted the bandage. That _bastard._

"What did you do to her!" Van shouted, looking up with an animal-like ferocity in his eyes. However, he was speaking to thin air. Dilandau was gone.

"Damn."

Van cleared his mind of the "how's and why's" of the situation and tried to think logically. Dilandau was running around wild and free (the emphasis on the wild) and the monster's better half was lying in his arms, unconscious and wounded. Van decided he would take care of latter first, and then—he sighed—he would go capture the psychopath. 

The black-haired boy walked briskly down to Celena's room and for what seemed to be the millionth time that day, laid the girl down in her bed. Quickly he unwrapped Dilandau's bandaging job (which, he begrudgingly noticed, was pretty good) and cleaned the wound with hot soap and water. Finally he wrapped it again with clean gauze and dressed Celena in a nightgown. Van's face was as red as a tomato the entire time, but he was very professional about the whole mess.

As he rolled the covers up to Celena's chin, Van let his hand wander up to cup her cheek and run over her mouth. He didn't know what to think, what to do, or what to even _feel_ anymore. He knew he felt something for Celena. SomethingVan shrugged his shoulders tiredly. Gently he leaned down and brushed his lips against Celena's, feeling a buzz run through his body. Then he stood up and walked to the washroom.

Van sighed as he washed his hands off in the washbasin. It was time for the hard stuff. He had to go find Dilandau, capture him, and drag the idiot back to the Schezar Manor. The problem was that 1) He didn't know where Dilandau was, 2) He didn't know how he'd capture him, and 3) Dilandau was no idiot.

_Well,_ Van thought, _we'll start with problem Number One. If I were Dilandau, where would I go? Probably to the first Insane Asylum I passed and turned myself in._

Ugh. 

This was going to be tough.

~*~

Dilandau smiled as the bartender poured his drink with a shaky hand. Good man. Dilandau had felt the shock, fear and (most importantly) the hatred of the tavern's customers the minute he had walked though the door. He took a swig of the bitter alcohol. _What? A young boy in the uniform of a high-ranking officer in the Zaibach Army had just walked in late at night and ordered a drink? Didn't he know that Zaibachians weren't welcomed in Asturia?_

Well, of course he did. But Dilandau didn't give a damn.

A few intelligent individuals had recognized him immediately and had left the bar quicker then you could say "Dilandau Albatou." Unfortunately, there were some ignorant, arrogant drunken bastards who didn't leave and Dilandau could sense how the ungainly lot itched to fight. Perfect.

Dilandau just hoped it didn't take too long. Van was undoubtedly on the trail he had left for the boy to find. He knew the reluctantly chivalrous king would pursue him to the end of the world to get back at what he _thought _Dilandau had done to Celena (and beloved Fanelia as well). _Besides, he certainly couldn't have that _monster_ running around, could he?_

The soldier laughed and ordered another drink from the trembling bartender. As the man poured the alcohol Dilandau felt the feeling in the room change and he heard the approaching footsteps of drunken fools. The barkeeper backed down to help another customer.

So, the bastards had pulled together their measly courage.

Dilandau tensed. He waited for one second, and then another. Then he heard it: the sound of a dagger being unsheathed. He waited one more moment to give the man time to raise the dagger, aim it, and finally throw it. Dilandau then immediately jumped to the left and then up onto the counter, spinning around to face his attackers. He felt a little unbalanced, still very weak from the separation and he wasn't quite yet used to the extra 50 pounds the armor added to his frame. But his face showed none of this; it only smirked as the dagger went sailing past, shattering a couple of bottles.

"Attacking from behind, that's not very nice, is it? Such cowardice makes me angry," Dilandau said, looking down at the six startled faces. "Tsk, tsk. There is a fine line between bravery and stupidity. Obviously you louts don't see the difference."

"Better watch your tongue, kid," One of the men said. Dilandau raised a sterling eyebrow and said nothing. Silently, stealthily, he drew together his diminished strength. This would truly be a test of his ability—fighting six men while (for all intensive purposes) seriously weakened and injured.

"We're not going to let some upstart Zaibach albino freak insult us," said another man with along scar running across his forehead and left eye.

"Freak?" Dilandau whispered softly, "Well then, lets see how you six morons do against this freak.'"

The men rumbled their indignations at Dilandau's comment, and slowly withdrew their swords. Dilandau was impressed to see that the men weren't stupid enough to go one-on-one with him. They were going to rush him in groups. Perhaps all six at once.

Delightful. Dilandau could have cheered.

With a _very_ drunken war cry, three men rushed forward. The first one flung himself at Dilandau's chest while the other two scrambled to either side of him. Dilandau merely dodged the first man, sending him flying into the vast array of bottles and back counters. He was knocked unconscious immediately. Dumb shit. Dilandau took no notice. He quickly unsheathed his sword and swiped at the man on his left, feinting a low blow, which the halfwit fell for and Dilandau swiftly swung up, relieving the man of his head. He then turned and blocked the swinging blade of the man behind him. Dilandau pushed fiercely at the other man, throwing him backwards. The opponent squared his feet, thinking Dilandau was going to wait until he attacked again. Surprise, surprise, Dilandau chose this time to go on the offensive and after throwing the man off, simply continued with his momentum and ran the other man through before he even had a chance to blink.

Dilandau turned, spinning on the countertop to face the remaining four drunkards. He was breathing heavily, and sweating more then he should have. _Damn it._ He leapt down off of the counter to meet the charging band of morons. With flourish, he sliced through the front man who had decided to charge with his sword above his head, leaving his stomach wide open. Dilandau then spun, killing the man who had rushed him from behind. He turned again, his blade clashing with one more would-be assassin who was probably the most sober of the bunch. He would give him trouble. 

"You're weak, boy," said the man. His face was hard and grizzled but Dilandau could tell that once he had been a softer looking man. And he realized the man wasn't drunk at all. "I would have expected Dilandau Albatou to have more strength."

"And I would have expected a man who knew my identity to not have so much stupidity as to stay and fight me," Dilandau said, his red eyes blazing. He gave a last shove and ducked as low as he could and swiped the man's feet out from under him. He then stood up and with a swish of his sword, knocked the blade out of the fallen man's hand. 

"So, you thought that you could simply waltz up to me, insult me, and _then try to kill me_ and get away with it? What kind of dream-world are you living in?" Dilandau asked exasperatedly. The nerve of some people. 

"I had to at least try. You stood by and let my son be killed," the man said, looking up at Dilandau with—could it be?—_tears_ in his eyes. 

Dilandau raised an eyebrow at this new development. "I think you had too much to drink. There is no reason on this planet that I should have ever helped some Asturian half-wit."

"My son's name was Dalet. Dalet Harliel," The man said, his tone accusing.

Dilandau stiffened visibly, and an old familiar ache pulsed in his heart. Now his morality was going to be called into question. It was a good thing he didn't have any.

"Ah, so you're the bastard that had beat him black and blue when I found him in the gutter. What an interesting way of showing your affection," Dilandau said, his words dripping in poison.

"I loved him, he was my _son_!" The man pleaded. 

"And isn't it sad that I loved him more then you ever could," Dilandau whispered. He then flicked his wrist and Dalet's father was silenced forever. 

He stood over the dead man for a minute, catching his breath and banishing all thoughts of poor Dalet. Then Dilandau decided it was time for a drink. He turned purposefully, sheathed his sword, and went to the bar and grabbed his previously ordered drink with a shaking hand. Dilandau smiled. The alcohol had mixed with the raining blood of his slain attackers. The soldier cackled and tossed it down. 

Dilandau had reclaimed his edge.

~*~

Van shook his head, standing in the doorway of the pub. He was going to have intervened in the death of the last man Dilandau had slaughtered, but he had paused for a moment too long, hearing the maniac's utterance of "love" for Dalet. And for that pause, another death was now on his hands. Shit. _Nothing_ was going right anymore.

"So, whoever knew a monster could love?" Van said, unsheathing his sword and walking slowly towards the turned back of Dilandau Albatou. The maniac (that was how Van always thought of him) acted as if he hadn't heard him.

"Hello Van. What happened, you missed me?" Dilandau said in a singsong voice. He spun around on his heel, leaning against the bar. He looked like a satisfied cat.

"I have to take you back," Van said, not wasting anytime on preliminaries.

Dilandau rubbed the hilt of his sword. "Why?"

Van opened his mouth to say something, but then realized he didn't know exactly _why_ he had to take Dilandau back. Why in the hell couldn't he just kill the maniac here and be done with it? He didn't know the answer to that either. Van decided to stop asking questions he couldn't answer and scramble for a logical response.

"I can't have you running around killing people," Van said, motioning to the many dead bodies in the abandoned bar.

"I could say the same of you," Dilandau replied darkly. He withdrew his sword. Van groaned inwardly. He had never forgiven himself for killing those boys even if it was his life or theirs. Dilandau apparently wasn't about to either.

"Well then, let's get this mess over with, shall we?" Van asked, raising his sword.

"Aren't _you_ in a hurry to die? Well, I suppose I'll be generous and grant you this last request," Dilandau replied. He withdrew his sword and stood up. Slowly the two warriors began circling each other. Van's eyes were determined; Dilandau's were delighted.

Until he fell to the ground.

Suddenly, without any warning at all, Dilandau moaned loudly and dropped his sword to the ground. Van froze on the spot, not knowing what to make of it. The albino's hands flew to his stomach, and then his arms wrapped around his waist and he fell to the ground, his armor ringing as it hit the floor. He moaned again, and then lay quiet on his side, breathing heavily. Van straightened up and came a little closer to the fallen maniac. 

"What the" He breathed.

"Celena. Something's wrong with Cel—" Dilandau's explanation was cut off as he gasped sharply, and then his large red eyes closed and he slipped into oblivion.

Van, being _no_ fool, stepped up to Dilandau with extreme caution. His last words had frightened him, but the black-haired boy knew that it could be a trick. Slowly he bent down, his sword raised, and poked Dilandau with the toe of his boot like someone would a downed animal. The armored boy made no sound or movement. Van rolled him over with his foot. Still nothing.

"What a coward. Fainting at the fact that you had to fight Van Fanel, eh?" Van said, knowing that _that_ would certainly get a rise out of him if nothing else. When Dilandau still made no acknowledgement, Van sheathed his sword (satisfied with the proof of Dilandau's unconscious state) and then picked up the boy in his arms. And then he almost fell over himself. Reminding himself of Dilandau's last words, Van quickly set the albino down and hastily removed his jacket and overskirt to get rid of the extra weight of the armor. He also relieved the unconscious boy of his sword as well, mumbling at the insanity of not killing bastard. Van then picked Dilandau up once more and (just to be on the safe side) decided to _not _sling the boy over his back for fear the maniac still was faking and had a dagger to stick in his back. 

Then Van all but ran to where his horse was standing outside the bar. He heaved Dilandau up onto the creature so that the soldier was in front of the saddle. He then jumped on to the beast himself and pulled Dilandau up into a sitting position (that is until he fell back against Van's chest). The Fanelian boy swore darkly and grabbed the reins. He kicked the horse's sides with an added urgency and reluctantly wrapped an arm around Dilandau's waist to keep him from falling off.

"You," Van said into the ear of his unconscious enemy, "Are more trouble then you are worth."

_Then why couldn't he leave him?_

Dilandau would say because he was weak.

Van didn't know what to say.

Halfway through the ride, his mind worried on Celena and the absurdity of his and Dilandau's position, Van checked the maniac's pulse.

There wasn't one.

~*~

**A/N:** Bwahahaha! I am _so _incredibly evil! And I revel in it! I have also decided that Zelgadis (from "The Slayers"only one more tape to go!) is so damn hot I can hardly restrain myself from licking the TV screen whenever he comes on. 

**Dilandau**:What are you talking about? He's only a third human and he has scaly-rock things on his face! And his skin's a weird color! And his ears are pointy! 

**rainjewel**:I _love _his ears! What's your point?

**Dilandau**: He's so _weird_.

**rainjewel**: Uh-huh. This coming from the gender-bending albino pyromaniac psycho.

**Folken**: But I thought you loved _me_! *sulks*

**rainjewel**: I love you the most! I just happen to love Zelly-babe too.

**Zelgadis**: Oh dear god, please tell me that's _not_ my nickname.

**Folken**: It's better then "Folkie-poo." Stop bitching.

**rainjewel**: Oh Folkie-poo, Zelly-babe, come here! *Starry eyes*

**Folken and Zelgadis**:*sweatdrop*

To be continued

~*~


	4. Isabelle

**Behind Enemy Lines**

By: rainjewel

_Chapter Four: Scarred Again_

~*~

"Van-sama! You can't check a person's pulse with your gloves on!" Merle squealed as she paced the entire floor of Van's room. Van himself stood in the center of it, still holding the unconscious Dilandau in his arms and wearing a look of a boy being scolded by his mother.

"Okay, so I wasn't thinking straight! Can you blame me?" he growled. Dilandau was becoming heavy, and Van was worried the psycho would awaken in his arms which would probably lead to Gaea's apocalypse.

"You should have at _least_ had the sense to take off your _gloves_," Merle said under her breath. 

Van almost threw up his hands in defeat, but he couldn't really with Dilandau in his arms. So he walked over to his own bed and tossed the silver-haired soldier unceremoniously unto the bed and _then _threw his hands up. Merle uttered a low growl and left to "check on Celena" for what Van thought must have been the fifth time this half-hour.

After the catgirl had left Van stood up and dug through his suitcase until he found the coil of rope he had thrown in (he had wanted to be prepared for ever circumstance imaginable). He then walked over to the bed and tied Dilandau down so that he was spread-eagled on the covers. Only when he was done did Van realize that he had tied the maniac to _his_ bed.

_Figures._

Van sat down on the edge of the bed, thinking of the recent happenings. After he had "checked" Dilandau's pulse (with his gloves on, as Merle had so tactfully pointed out) Van had had such a bad fright he almost had a nervous break down. And when he had returned to Schezar Manor five minutes later and seen a horse-drawn carriage with Fanelia's royal seal in the front lawn he had almost had another one. He had leapt off his still-moving horse, slinging Dilandau carelessly over his shoulder and ran into the building screaming Merle's name at the top of his lungs while visions of a flaming Fanelia danced in his head.

Van had burst into Celena's room to find Merle leaning over the slumbering girl. The catgirl had screamed bloody murder at the sight of her beloved Van-sama clutching the half-naked Zaibach warrior Dilandau Albatou to his chest. Van hadn't caught onto that, but screamed at Merle as to whether or not Celena was alive.

"Of course she's alive! All I did was stitch up that nasty cut while she was unconscious so she wouldn't feel it. What's _he_ doing here?" Merle had replied.

"Then Dilandau's dead!" Van had said, not answering the girl. Merle reached out and pressed her paw to the albino's neck.

"No he's notunfortunately."

"But I checked for a pulse and there wasn't one!"

Merle's face darkened. "Did you take off your gloves?"

"Of course Ino. I didn't."

And then Merle had smacked him over the head and stormed off to his room, which is where Van caught up to her and received his present reprimanding. So now that left Van with five questions.

Why was Merle here? Why had Dilandau passed out at the pub in the outskirts of Palas? Why was Dilandau _even here_? Celena or Hitomi? What in the fuck was he supposed to do now? 

Merle thankfully answered that one for him. She waltzed back into the room and with all the tact a 14-year-old catgirl has, informed him that he needed a bath because he "stunk like a wet dog."

Van kissed her cheek and thanked her for her kindness.

"Anyways, I'm not telling you anything tonight. I'll talk tomorrow," Merle yawned, kneeling down at Van's feet and taking off his boots. Van smiled. Merle always delighted in taking care of him. He was so glad she was back here. She was something familiar he could grab onto in this world of chaos. "Until then, I don't want one question or explanation from you regarding him—" Merle jerked her finger over in Dilandau's direction—"Or Celena, or anything else! Now give me your shirt and go take a bath. I'll leave the pants to you, unless you really think you need assistance with those as well."

Van flung his shirt in her face and walked to the washroom. "Tease."

Merle stuck her tongue out. "Goodnight, Van-sama."

"Night Merle." The catgirl left, her blue dress trailing behind her.

Van smiled and stepped into the already filled bathtub (after removing his pants, of course). As he scrubbed away the day's sweat, blood and grime he began to relax. _It's funny, _Van thought, _Merle came back, and it doesn't matter that I have a psychopath tied to my bed, a couple of dead friends, and an injuredCelena. I don't know what she is. Thank you, Merle._

Van let himself soak for another _good_ ten minutes until his hands resembled raisins and his scalp was pink from scrubbing. Then he decided he should probably get out (he conveniently overlooked the fact that he had almost fallen asleep in the tub and had nearly drowned himself in his own bath water). So the Fanelian King gingerly stepped out of the tub, wrapped a towel around his body, and then strolled out of the washroom.

As Van lackadaisically discarded his towel in favor of a pair of briefs and his pajama pants, he took a glance at Dilandau. He was struck by how_angelic_ the boy looked in his sleep. The soldier's eyes were closed and soft looking while his lips parted in a way that reminded him of a sleeping child. Van pulled up his pants, his eyes locked onto Dilandau's closed ones. The soldier's face for once _wasn't_ contorted by maniacal bloodlust, but was instead a picture of peacefulness. Carefully Van stepped closer to the bed. He was also surprised at how thin Dilandau was. The boy had the same frame as himself, but Dilandau was taller. _Maybe that's why he looks so thin, _he thought, _or it could be because I've never seen him without his armor on._

Tentatively Van reached out and placed two (ungloved) fingers to Dilandau's throat. As he did so, Dilandau turned his head slightly, baring his jugular to Van's fingers. The black-haired boy gasped, feeling his enemy's cold, silky skin moving under his fingertips. It felt like a snake. He finally found Dilandau's pulse; it was slow and steady in contrast to his own racing and erratic heartbeat. This was, for him, like looking at enemy battle plans. Van felt like he was uncovering military secrets. He supposed there wasn't a bigger secret _than_ Dilandau Albatou.

Van lifted his hand away from Dilandau's icy neck. He tilted his head as if searching for weaknesses. He found one. Again he reached out. Gently he brushed Dilandau's hair aside, marveling at the softness of it. Then Van lowered one finger and he, ever-so-slightly, traced the scar he had given Dilandau so many colors ago. He had made the Zaibach fall to his knees, just because of some stupid cut.

"You're such a vain bastard," Van whispered. He knew Dilandau had a right to be vain; he _was_ handsome, but the maniac took it to extremes. He ran his finger down the length of the scar again. But this time Dilandau cried out as if in pain and flinched away from Van's touch violently. Van knew he was in danger of waking the boy up, but he was _so_ very curious about the mystery Dilandau possessed.

However, Van also wasn't an idiot. He had no idea what Dilandau would do if he woke up to find Van Fanel stroking his hated scar. Van didn't doubt for a second that Dilandau would do everything in his power to strike him down.

So the Fanelian King quietly retreated to the couch and stretched out on it. Briefly—sleepily—he considered going into Celena's room to be with her, but decided to keep an eye on the bound pyromaniac.

Even if it was a closed one.

~*~

Dilandau woke up. He did not move, he did not open his eyes, he didn't even quicken his breathing. He simply became aware of his surroundings. Though he almost panicked when he felt the bindings on his wrists and ankles. Flashbacks from a far darker time flew in his memory, and Dilandau was thrust into Zaibach once more. The world of the Madoushi who had poked and prodded him until he screamed in anguish so that he could be the efficient killing machine he was today. And then there was the man with the glasses. The evil man who—

"Is he awake?" whispered a soft voice. Dilandau calmed himself. The voice was female and young. "I thought I heard him groan."

"No, he didn't. Go take Celena to the garden," said a voice. Dilandau recognized it as Van's.

"But Van-sama, I—"

"Go." Dilandau heard some cat-like grumbling and then the slamming of the door.

"Good morning Dilandau," Van stated solemnly. Dilandau smiled and opened his eyes. 

"Morning it may be, but as to whether it's good' or not is debatable," he said brightly. He chose _not_ to look at Van (who was standing at the foot of the bed, arms folded and face set like stone) but directed his eyes to the ceiling. Slowly he began to feel a sore, dull throbbing in his right arm. 

"Is that so?" Van replied neutrally. Dilandau chose not to dignify the boy's moronic question with an answer. He moved his right shoulder, and suddenly he was aware of _just_ how weak he really was. Dilandau closed his eyes for the light was too harsh. His limbs felt as if they were made of lead. He supposed the separation must have used all of his strength. He tried to experimentally lift his head, but that proved to be too taxing.

Dilandau found this very frustrating. He would have yelled to vent his anger, but he didn't have the energy.

Van decided to take advantage of the situation.

Dilandau opened his eyes to find the boy-king on the lower side of the bed, untying his ankles. This would have been a fine time to kick Van in the face and break his nose, but Dilandau realized he couldn't left his leg sufficiently. Damn.

_Well, this is just fan-fucking-tastic! I get the chance to nail the bastard and I'm too _weak_ to do it. How typical. It seems that no matter how much one manipulates Fate she still retains her horrid sense of irony._

Van, meanwhile, moved to Dilandau's wrists.

"And why are you risking this?" Dilandau asked, his eyes on the boy-king's bowed head. Van leaned over him, untying his other wrist. Dilandau grimaced; he hated being this close.

"I'm not risking a damn thing. You're too weak to fight me adequately from whatever you had to do with Celena. I'm taking advantage of it," Van replied, stepping back. Dilandau burned with anger. Carefully he moved his arms to his sides. Relief flooded through his right arm.

"Oh, then what the fuck are you going to do with me?" he spat at Van. The black-haired boy didn't respond at first, but reached out and grabbed Dilandau's upper arm and hauled him to a sitting position.

"Hey!" Dilandau protested.

"Time for your potty break," Van said with a grin. Dilandau shoved his arm off his shoulder.

"You're sick," he stated in one of his deadlier tones. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly, adjusting to his weakness. He took a deep breath and steadied himself as the world swam before him. Dilandau would get through this, he would function as best he could.

Van stood motionless, observing all this with a raised eyebrow. "Can you walk?"

"Shut up," Dilandau growled, his hands clenched into fists. He marched past Van with an arrogant smirk and shaky knees. Let the boy-king think he was weak. His defenses would slip, and Dilandau wasn't _that_ weak; he could compensate and accommodate. He would strike him down. 

"Keep the door open," Van called. Dilandau turned his head.

"Yes sweetheart," he tossed back, sounding exactly like Celena. He smiled as he heard Van come running. Quickly Dilandau sidestepped, leaning against the doorway as Van flew past. However, the black-haired boy turned just as quickly and tackled Dilandau who went easily flying on his back.

As Dilandau felt himself hit the ground, he felt the last of his strength wither away. Van immediately straddled him, pinning him to the ground. But neither of these things stopped Dilandau from cackling hysterically while Van's furious face seethed above him.

"Temper, temper. You are _such_ a barbarian," Dilandau cackled. Van painfully tightened his grip on Dilandau's shoulders, but the albino refused to wince.

"Don't mock her, you sadistic bastard," Van said through clenched teeth. Dilandau cocked his head to the side, amused with his anger.

"Well then, perhaps you shouldn't mock me. Celena and I are very close you see," Dilandau replied. His hand brushed against Van's boot and he felt the dagger that lurked in the top of it. 

"You are _nothing _like Celena!" Van roared.

"Oh really? And what do you know, boy-king? I think _I_ am the authority on matters concerning the relationship between her and I," Dilandau replied. He saw Van's eyes flash brightly. "Ah, so that's it, isn't it? You're jealous! You certainly are one sick fuck."

"Shut up!" Van shouted. Dilandau knew he had hit a sore spot.

"You're upset because ever since your beloved Celena recovered she hasn't been quite the same, has she? She's like a child, a 5-year-old who always has to be looked after," Dilandau crowed, "And you miss the other Celena, the one you helped, the one that cried on your shoulder, the one you _kissed_. But she never existed, Van. Only I did."

"God damn you!" Van cried. His hand flashed out and he smacked Dilandau on the left side of his head. Dilandau rolled with the blow, grimacing at the jarring and pain that screamed in his ears. He focused that same pain (not to mention anger) into his left hand. Quick as lightening, his hand darted and snatched the dagger from Van's boot. He swung up and felt the blade connect with Van's right cheek. He then swiftly drove it down, creating a perfect imitation of his very own scar.

_Suck on that, Van Fanel._

Van grabbed the dagger from Dilandau as soon as the blade left his flesh. The albino's hand fell limply on the floor, his strength gone. Van's eyes were wide and unbelieving and his lips were open slightly. Dilandau watched in anticipation, soaking in the other boy's shock and horror.

"Does it hurt?" Dilandau whispered. Van's eyes flashed, the words switching him on like a light. The hand that held the dagger came flying down, the blade penetrating the floor beside Dilandau's head. Van leaned down.

"Does this hurt?" he whispered in Dilandau's ear. Van then raised his hand and punched him straight in the diaphragm. Dilandau curled upwards with the blow and his chin knocked Van's shoulder. As his vision swam and his world dimmed, he grasped Van's forearms with his hands and managed to breathe

_"What you do to one side you must do to the other"_

~*~

Slowly Celena crept down the hall. She felt good. She had managed to escape from Merle, who was currently sleeping on the great armchair in Celena's room. The young Schezar thought it was incredibly funny that the catgirl could sleep in a little round ball anywhere she liked.

Celena opened the door to the room she believed Dilandau and Van to be in. carefully she peeked in, looking to see if anyone was still awake. It was hard to see through her untamed golden curls (her hair was now a little past her shoulders) but she could tell that no one was awake. She shut the door silently. She didn't know how she knew to be so quiet, but she was pleased at how good she was at it.

On the couch was the black-haired boy named Van. Celena remember meeting him in the garden, and she remembered everything that had happened today, but she couldn't remember anything of the past day or two (except that it didn't _feel_ too good). And Dilandau was gone. He had always been her invisible, private friend in her dream world, but now he was here in the real world. Celena had decided that it didn't matter to her what world he chose to exist in, just as long as he existed. 

Celena found her "friend" sleeping on the bed. She tiptoed over to where Dilandau lay and noticed that there was rope around his wrists and ankles. Celena thought he was rather silly to have done that to himself, so she went around and untied him.

Gosh, how _thin_ and _cold_ he looked! Celena had never seen anyone so pale! Except for a large black bruise on his stomach, Dilandau looked like he had been bathed in milk. Celena quietly went to the closet by the washroom and grabbed a blanket from it. She walked back over to Dilandau and put the blanket over him.

Celena then leaned over and kissed Dilandau on the forehead.

Dilandau opened up one _very_ surprised eye.

Celena smiled and smothered a giggle.

Dilandau smiled and put a finger to his lips.

He slowly stood up from the bed, stretching and flexing his muscles as if testing his strength. His smile widened and he walked (still holding a finger to his lips) to the washroom and closed the door. Celena waited patiently for a few minutes until he returned. He then came over and took her hand, leading her out the door.

The minute they were down the hallway and out of earshot, Celena dared to speak.

"Why are you so _white_?" she asked, looking at Dilandau's pale chest. He opened the door to Allen's room and smiled at her.

"I'm an albino. It's a rare genetic something-or-other. Very special," Dilandau explained. He was damned if he was going to say "genetic disorder." He grabbed a white long-sleeved shirt from the closet and slipped into it, leaving it unbuttoned.

"Oh. What am I then?" Celena asked, following Dilandau as he walked through the halls in the direction of the kitchen.

"Why, you're beautiful," Dilandau replied absently, opening the kitchen door. Celena blushed.

"You're beautiful too," she said shyly. He turned and grinned at her.

"Are you hungry?" Dilandau asked. Celena shook her head. "Well I am," he said. He grabbed an apple from the icebox and some bread and cheese as well. He also took a large bottle of _vino_ from a cabinet. Dilandau then heaved himself up on the counter, munching. He offered an arm to Celena and pulled her up beside him. She watched him eat for a few minutes.

"Why were you and Van fighting?" she asked. She remembered hearing yelling as she and Merle had come back from the garden. That was when she had learned Dilandau was here.

"Van and I don't get along. He wasn't very nice to me in the past, and I wasn't very nice to him either," Dilandau admitted, uncorking the wine. He turned and looked at Celena. "You're the only one I'm nice too.

Celena felt disturbed and pleased with that statement. Dilandau offered the bottle of vino to her, but Celena shook her head.

"My brother says I'm too young to drink that stuff. It's not allowed."

Dilandau shook his head. "You can do anything you want to Celena. You're independent now. Allen can't control you anymore."

"Well, it doesn't smell good anyway. No thanks," Celena said. Dilandau grinned and brought the bottle to his own lips. They sat in contented silence for awhile.

"So," Dilandau asked finally, "Are you healing alright?"

Celena rubbed her stomach gently, feeling her stitches. "My cut's healing fine. I don't remember where I got it, but it doesn't hurt anymore. Though while I was in my room I had an _awful_ pain right her," she said, motioning to her ribs. "But, I think I fell asleep or something, because all I remember after that was Van waking me up saying he was sorry about something. I didn't have the slightest clue what he was talking about. I thought it might have something to do with that bandage on his cheek, like he had been punished, but I didn't say anything."

"You're a smart girl. Tell me, why did you come to my room?" Dilandau asked, finishing up his meal.

"Because I missed you silly. I heard you earlier today and I knew that you weren't in my head anymore, but you were here in the real world," Celena explained. Dilandau smiled.

"Nope, I'm certainly not in your head anymore," he repeated. He hopped down from the counter. "We need to get back. If Van woke up and I'm not there he won't be happy with me at all."

"I thought he wasn't happy with you to begin with," Celena said, puzzled. Dilandau laughed and gently eased her off the counter and onto the ground.

"He'll learn," Dilandau said, looking off into the distance. "Celena, do you love me?"

Celena blushed. "Of course I do, Dilandau-chan."

"Why?"

"Becausebecause you're nice to me, and you love me back. And you know lots of neat stuff!" Celena said with enthusiasm. Dilandau looked a little shocked, but he shrugged and began walking, Celena beside him.

"Are you still in your room?" Dilandau asked after awhile. Celena nodded.

"Yes, but I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight," she said softly. She looked at Dilandau with big eyes. "I miss Allen a little, and well"

"I don't" Dilandau began, then a queer half-smile appeared on his lips. "Okay then. You can, just make sure not to wake Van up."

Celena was ecstatic. "I'll be good!"

"I know you will," Dilandau whispered. He cautiously opened the door to the room and looked pleased to find that Van hadn't budged. He tiptoed over to the bed, Celena following him with equal quietness. This was a very exciting game they were playing. Silently Dilandau took off his boots and then slipped under the covers. Celena took off her own shoes and climbed in with him, thrilled with the secret-ness of it all. Dilandau was lying on his side and Celena turned to face him. She noticed the black bruise on his ribs again. 

And then she had an idea.

Celena kissed the palm of her hand and then carefully pressed it to Dilandau's stomach. To her dismay, the bruise didn't go away, but remained a dark stain on his rare, white skin. For some reason this upset herDilandau was now in the real world, and problems were harder to deal with. Celena hugged him fiercely, crushing her left arm against his chest and wrapping her right arm around his waist. She lay her head down on Dilandau's shoulder, crying. After a moment, Celena felt him shift onto his backside and his arms wrapped around her. Delicately he kissed her hair.

"What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I can't fix you," Celena said.

"I don't need to be fixed, I'm safe."

Celena buried her face in his neck. "You're safe."

"And so are you," Dilandau whispered back. With his words, Celena stopped her tears, and eventually fell asleep. Dilandau himself waited until she had fallen asleep, and then he let himself slip into slumber.

"We're safe"

~*~

**A/N:** ARGH! What a horribly short chapter with hardly any action! And I ended two things in a row with Dilandau speaking. Man, I must be tired or something. ACK! I watched the Digimon: The Movieexcuse me, where was the Great Golden God Yamato Ishida? All he did was ride around on Omnimon's shoulders and have a deaf grandma! Too much Taichi and Daisuke! I'm being overloaded with hair and goggles! Dear god! Bring back my Matt! But Wallace or Willis, or whatever the fuck his name is, was HOT! And T.K. was hot! Everyone looked incredibly sexy (I'm not talking about the girls here). And Sora was upset over a _hairpin_? WHAT? She wears a bucket on her head in the first place! Oh my. And there was no Ken. *Sigh* Nothing goes how I want it to.

**Amelia**: So this would be a bad time to bring up the completely retarded ending to the first set of "Slayers," wouldn't it?

**rainjewel**: Damn you, 5-year-old child with big breasts! Shut your infantile chatter about victory and justice or I will roast you like the chicken you are! And who in the world paired you up with my Zelgadis anyway? And why did Eris the spiked-shoulder-padded bitch have to die? Why?

**Eris**: Because I had to die to prove the situation is serious.

**Guy**: (from the movie "Galaxy Quest"): Yeah, why do you think she didn't have a last name?

**rainjewel:** Serious? "Slayers" isn't serious!

**Eris**: Uh, yeah, wellwhy _did_ I have to die?

**Zelgadis**: And why in the hell do I get the 5-year-old? Haven't I had enough torture?

**rainjewel**: I'll gladly torture you

**Folken**: Run, just run as far and as fast as you can.

~*~


	5. Eulalia

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Five: Pigeon

****

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, you don't own Escaflowne, get over it. J 

A/N: Yeah, stuck in another disclaimer so that I don't get in trouble or something. I would just like to mention that I'm dedicating this chapter to my good friend Amanda, who is an exceptional poet that I should recruit to FF.NET. She was the one to first read and review this story and I love her madly. Amanda, even though you're a witch, you keep me going and I thank you heartily for that. Oh, and everyone has gone completely OOC. Hey, you try this coupling with keeping everyone in perfect form and you'll see how hard it is! *wink*

~*~

Van stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had just walked into the washroom, not even bothering to check on Dilandau. His cheek hurt. The white bandage upset the balance of his face, he noticed. To Van, the almost certainty of the scarring it would cause didn't matter to him. He was _certainly_ not a vain person, and in a twisted way the disfigurement made him feel closer to his brother. Folken had fallen when he had let his sword drop out of compassion for the land dragon. Van had fallen when he had let his feelings take control.

__

And what were those feelings? Van heard Dilandau's voice in his head.

"Rage," Van answered, the same rage he felt right now. Impatiently he slammed his fist in the mirror, shattering the glass completely. He would _not_ admit to anything else.

__

There isn't anything else to admit, he amended.

Carefully he washed his hands in the sink. He avoided all the broken shards of the mirror, wanting to get rid of the glass and blood imbedded now in his knuckles, not add to it. Van turned and dried his hands off on a towel. Absently he ran a finger along the bandage, irritated by the dryness of it. He pressed down slightly, welcoming the physical pain over the emotional. Dilandau had done his job well. Every thought of his forming scar brought Van back to his adversary's words.

__

"…And you miss the other Celena, the one you helped, the one that cried on your shoulder, the one you kissed_. But she never existed Van. Only I did…"_

Van winced. _Yes Dilandau, it hurts. But I'm not talking about my face_. Celena was never his. He had been played for a fool, twice. Once by Celena/Dilandau, and once by the now silent Hitomi.

He felt the rejection start to burn once more. It felt like his heart was being turned inside out.

"Why," he whispered to the bloodied towel, "Why did you throw away a love so strong that it brought us together when worlds separated us? Was it because I was a warrior? Was it because you found you liked people on the Mystic Moon better then me? Hitomi…"

A tear slipped down his face. 

He had tried, last night, to reach her again. Actually, he had succeeded. Van had penetrated the wall.

**__**

Van? Hitomi had questioned.

__

Yes, he had answered so quietly, his heart aching in shame. Shame to talk to the woman he loved.

**__**

Go away Van! Please, I can't do this! Hitomi had screamed. Van had cut the connection then, obeying her word. At the time he thought that maybe, _just_ maybe, he could win back her love by doing as she wished.

It was such a joke. 

Van smiled ruefully. He was probably a comical sight, so broken and desperate to win the love of a woman who either couldn't or didn't want him, and he was dying for the affections of a woman who didn't exist. 

Well, actually it existed in the form of his greatest—_and deadliest, let's not forget that_—enemy. 

__

Ah, so all I need to do is get PyroBoy in touch with his feminine side. Too bad he already got rid of it.

Van laughed in what he knew was a "Dilandau-ish" manner. He didn't care. The sane world was decidedly fucked. Lunacy was easier.

"Jeez, for a second I thought I had a twin. I could have sworn I heard an insane, scarred boy laughing in the bathroom," Dilandau said. Van spun around to see the garnet-eyed boy leaning in the doorway. In the background Celena waved. 

Something inside him snapped.

"Dilandau!" Van cried delightedly. "I'm so glad to see you're awake!" He sprang forward and hugged the taller boy fiercely. "Hi Celena!" Van waved back at Celena over Dilandau's shoulder. He took Dilandau's face in his hands and pinched his cheeks.

"Get away from me!" Dilandau yelled, shoving Van away. He took a few steps back himself. Van noticed how wide and confused his eyes were.

"My, someone's not a morning person," Van chided, delighted with his insanity. No wonder Dilandau loved to be such a fruitcake. He began to laugh uncontrollably.

Dilandau frowned and stepped up to Van. It was obvious he was thoroughly thrown by his enemy's behavior. So was Van himself. Dilandau raised a hand and then smacked the king so hard it made his eyes jiggle. Van stood still for a few seconds, then dropped to a dazed sitting position on the floor, his laughter quelled.

"Gods, what in the hell _happened_ to you?" Dilandau whispered. Celena walked up beside him, trembling. He absently put a comforting arm around her. Van stared up at the both of them, wondering just _what_ in the hell _did_ happen to him. And how did Celena get in here? Why was Dilandau untied?

"Van-sama!" came Merle's cry. Van swiveled his head drunkenly, the seriousness of the situation dawning on him. Slowly his sanity returned.

"Merle?" Celena mumbled. She turned to look at the catgirl, but she turned the wrong way and walked into Dilandau's chest. He turned her back around, his eyes never leaving Van's. 

"What did you do to him Dilandau!" Merle screamed, baring her claws and walking towards him. Celena backed off, looking frightened. Dilandau and Van were still locked in a staring contest. Van felt like an electric current was coursing between them. 

__

We both found common ground…

"Stop Merle," Van said towards the menacing catgirl. She stopped obediently.

"Van-sama," Merle protested. Van held up a hand, silencing her. Dilandau's eyes grew a little wider.

"Please go back to Fanelia immediately. You know of the situation here, so your curiosity should be satisfied. I will deal with the problem here, and then return as soon as possible. Take Celena with you," Van stated, standing up.

"No!" said Dilandau and Celena in unison. The harmony of their voices sent a chill up Van's spine.

"You will keep Celena at the castle as a guest. However, if I send word, order to have her killed," Van continued. He stood up, rising until he was eye level with his garnet-eyed nemesis.

Dilandau smiled. "Clever. But you'll have to go through me first."

"Okay," Van replied. He broke eye contact with Dilandau and felt the connection fizzle. He reached out and grabbed the unsuspecting Celena, shoving Dilandau aside. Dilandau returned with a well-placed trip and another blow to the head, but Van had Celena around the waist and simply rolled with the girl, stopping when he was on his back with Celena face-up on his chest. Gently he pressed right below Celena's ribcage.

"Bitch. You choose lowly tactics," Dilandau said in disgust, pressing a hand on top of his own bruised chest as he sank to the floor. His eyes bulged. Van knew he was only mildly discomforting the girl, but Dilandau should be in a satisfactory amount of pain.

"Merle, take her," Van ordered. Dilandau moved to rise, so Van pressed down harder, making Celena sigh in pain. Dilandau dropped, curling on his side making short, gasping noises.

Merle quickly scampered over and grabbed Celena by the hand. Van kissed her furry cheek swiftly as she rose and dragged Celena out the door.

"Be well, Van-sama!" she called. Van stood up and watched Dilandau rise to his feet, unhindered by his counterpart. Van knew he couldn't let him gain any ground. Dilandau was _highly _adaptable, and would soon learn to tolerate Celena's pain and weaknesses so that he could fight at 100% all of the time.

So Van charged the albino. He knew that he had the upper hand on Dilandau in wrestling (he had after all, had to wrestle with Balgus). The other boy specialized in guymelef warfare, burning, and had a talent for fighting with daggers as Van's cheek proved. Dilandau surprised him, however, by charging him at the same time Van did. The boys clashed into each other at full speed. Dilandau should have overpowered Van since he had momentum and adrenaline on his side, but he was having trouble breathing and took the blow harder.

Yet both bounced back with amazing resiliency. Dilandau threw logic and strategy into the wind (as only he can do) and simply followed his survival instinct. Van braced himself as Dilandau came at him, throwing punches every which way, but he made sure he retaliated in the same fashion. A couple of head blows knocked him on his ass, but Van swung his legs around tripped the pale boy, landing a punch on his side. As Dilandau fell, he heard the hoof-beats of Merle's carriage horses and he smiled. He had won.

"I do believe I broke your rib," Van said a little slurredly. Dilandau had a knack for smacking people in the head and Van found he had partway bitten through his tongue. 

"I do believe I broke your heart," Dilandau retorted, wheezing. Van winced. 

The two lay quietly for a moment, both too exhausted to think about killing each other. Right now, all either could manage was an insult.

"I see you're not back up to your regular strength. How disappointing," Van slurred. He rolled over and spit out a mouthful of blood.

"And I see you're not back up to your regular sanity. How interesting," Dilandau replied. He sat up painfully, as did Van. Both sat glaring at each other, not asking—but thinking—the same question:

__

What do we do now?

"I will kill you," Dilandau said. He stared at the older boy blankly. Van saw in a solitary twitch of an eyelash, Dilandau begin to doubt himself. Then the albino suddenly shot forward, wrapping his hands around Van's neck. "I _will_ kill you!"

Van didn't doubt that. Frantically he tried pulling Dilandau's hands off his neck, but the combination of his head injuries and the lack of oxygen was complicating things. He made the last-ditch effort of closing his eyes and faking unconsciousness. 

A moment later Dilandau's hands fell from his neck.

"Just not…just not right now," he heard the boy whisper. Then Van felt a large weight being pressed on his body, and he knew Dilandau had passed out from exhaustion. For a moment Van let the boy lay there, making sure the soldier wasn't faking as well. As his heartbeat slowed and matched Dilandau's slow, wet breath on his neck, Van opened his eyes. He rolled over, letting Dilandau hit the ground below him. Van then fell once again onto his back and let his _own_ exhaustion take over.

~*~

Gods, how it hurt. Dilandau touched a hand to his bruise, but it traveled to his heart. How _dare_ Van take Celena away from _him_. She was the only person on this planet he gave a damn about. Yes, she was weak, yes, she was stupid and not to mention downright annoying, but Dilandau loved her nonetheless.

Dilandau stood up slowly. He was pleased to see his normal strength had almost returned. Now he had to deal with bruised—possibly broken—ribs. Then he would deal with the boy-king.

As Dilandau began wrapping a bandage around his lower ribs, he started to think. Van's little bout of insanity had disturbed him. The king's behavior reminded Dilandau of the time when he had began to slip due to the resurfacing Celena. And when their eyes had met, Dilandau had remembered the pain he had been in and understood that Van was going through the same thing. Van was loosing control, just like he had.

"Doesn't feel too good, does it buddy?" Dilandau whispered coldly. Van had surprised him again. Usually the boy's personality and behavior were fairly predictable. He wound the last bandage and walked over to Van.

"Get up," he commanded. He nudged Van's still form with his boot. The other boy opened his cinnamon eyes. His pupils were dilated.

"Would you just leave me alone for one minute?" Van growled. Dilandau felt his temper rise. He bent over and hauled Van to his feet. He held the boy-king by his shoulders and shook him roughly. This wouldn't do.

"Stop bitching and snap out of it!" Dilandau yelled furiously into Van's face. "I know you are stronger then this and I am _never _wrong. If you are going to make your threat about Celena real then you had better toughen up and deal with me. I _do not_ tolerate weakness. If you can't deal, then God help me, I'll take you down in the blink of an eye for acting like such a barbaric pissant. And that really ruins my mood and makes me pissed that I had to resort to senseless slaughter and missed out on a good fight. Once that happens I will take back Celena and torch your sex kitten and your stupid primitive country!"

Dilandau shoved the other boy away, his eyes on fire. He hadn't yelled at someone like that since he had trained the Dragonslayers. Van steadied himself and then took a deep breath. His eyes and face radiated a new intensity. He bent down and retrieved two daggers from his suitcase. The darker boy chucked one directly at Dilandau's head. He reached out and caught it with flourish.

"I will deal with this right now. This will end," Van said in a deadly tone. He began circling Dilandau. 

"About fucking time!" Dilandau replied, "Let's do this." He began circling as well. Van would expect him to charge, but Dilandau could (occasionally) be patient. Let Van make the first move.

Unfortunately, Van looked like he had the exact same idea on his mind. The two kept circling; Van waiting for Dilandau to become impatient, Dilandau stubbornly digging in his heels.

"Aren't you going to come at me? Or are we going to just sit here playing 'Ring Around the Rosy?'" Van taunted. Dilandau smiled.

"You still can't charge, can you? You never could come at a person aggressively enough to make them think you were serious," he flung back. 

"Oh really?" Van asked. He then broke his circling and ran at Dilandau. This time he _did_ look convincing. Van swung at Dilandau's head, but he ducked and slashed at Van's stomach. The king jumped back and kicked at Dilandau's dagger, hitting the blade out of his hand. Dilandau jumped into the air and grabbed the blade, throwing it at Van's head with full force. He completed his air acrobatics by flipping forwards, landing behind him.

"How pretty," Van said, dodging the blade so it grazed his shoulder instead of impaling him in the head. Dilandau swooped up with the blade as it hit the ground, meeting the downward swing of Van's own dagger. He wrenched free of Van and rolled away, springing up on his feet. Van threw his dagger directly at his heart. Dilandau ducked and the dagger flew through Allen's shirt and tacked him to the wall. 

"Smooth," he commented. He jerked forward, ripping Allen's shirt. He charged at Van, but the shirt stopped ripping and made him lose a second or two as he tugged again. That was all Van needed. 

The Fanelian boy met his charge and grabbed the fist of Dilandau's dagger hand. He thrust his weight against him, pinning him against the wall. Van took the dagger from his hand, and put against Dilandau's throat.

__

Goddamn Allen and his stupid starched shirt. Look, an alliteration. This is not good.

"Was that aggressive enough?" Van asked. He wound the ripped shirt of Allen's around Dilandau's free hand, entangling him in the fabric.

"I've seen better," Dilandau replied, grimacing at the pain in his chest. Van was rubbing against his ribs. The boy frowned and Dilandau felt the pressure on the blade increase and cut into his skin. But then, the pressure ceased, and Van began shaking his head.

"I'm not going to fight you anymore," Van said, "Fight solves nothing. Gaea needs peace. I learned that from the Great War. I am not going to succumb to stupid bloodshed again."

Dilandau blinked. "What?"

"I'm not going to kill you," Van replied. Dilandau looked into his eyes and saw that he was telling the truth.

"You're going to have to if you don't want to die yourself. You _must _be insane if you think you can keep me tied to a bed forever. You're going to have to kill me. I don't care what your Mystic Moon slut told you, but fighting has always solved my problems," Dilandau spat. 

"Goddamnit! You cannot resolve everything by burning it to smoking bits! Not everything works that way! That's the edge I have over you Dilandau, I can do much more then be a mindless killing machine," Van retorted. The words stung.

"You have no edge over me. I'm not a mindless killing machine, and you know that. Now, since your threat does not hold true, I'm going to go and collect Celena and get the hell out of here," Dilandau said. He noticed the window to his right. Maybe…

"You are not going anywhere. I am going to make you into a decent person. Hitomi always saw the good in people, and I am going to find it in you. I won't kill Celena. But I can make her hate you, make her turn against you. She's the one who can beat you Dilandau. Right now you and I are on the same level, I just happened to win this time. But she can kick your ass," Van said. 

"Damn you," Dilandau hissed. Van had struck a chord. "There isn't any good in me to find. I am a constructed evil military genius. I cannot love, I cannot care."

"That's not true. You love Celena. You cared for the Dragonslayers. I heard you talking to Dalet's father in the pub," Van said. He leaned into Dilandau's ear, making him feel claustrophobic. "And I have seen it myself. I don't think you could pull off that act of Celena's when I was here without some truth to it."

"You _are_ a sick fuck," Dilandau whispered back, "Hitomi is gone, Van. _Gone_. She didn't want you. She went back to the Mystic Moon and left you here. And as for Celena, you're searching for a person that doesn't exist."

Van pulled back and looked Dilandau in the eyes, searching him. Dilandau began to struggle to get out of his grasp. 

"I can see it."

"I don't care if you can or not," Dilandau replied. "Because in a few seconds, neither you or I will be here to find out."

Van's faced blanched. Dilandau took a chance; he leaned forward and planted the most passionate kiss he could manage on Van's mouth (which was hard with a blade pressed to his throat). It was full of heat and told the truth that lay in Dilandau's heart, even if he didn't yet know it himself. The small amount of love and caring Celena had left radiated through his lips and into Van's mouth.

"Dilandau," Van breathed as the pale boy broke away. Dilandau felt Van's grip loosen, and he snapped his arm out from where the dagger held it and wrapped the arm around Van's waist.

"Goodbye," Dilandau whispered. He lunged to the side and hit the window with full force, smashing it to pieces. He was the only one worthy of taking his own life. As Dilandau began to fly through the air, Van in his arms, he let out one harsh chuckle.

__

I will end this Van. I will have the last laugh.

And then Dilandau closed his eyes and prepared to meet his maker.

~*~

Van didn't even register what was going through Dilandau's mind until the pair was busting through the window of his room. Then everything Dilandau had said and done made perfect sense. And then Van realized what was about to happen.

He chucked the dagger away quickly and shut his eyes as he felt his wings explode from his back. He had just found what he wanted and he wasn't going to lose it. Furiously Van pumped his wings, slowing his and Dilandau's deadly plummet. He wouldn't have enough time to stop the fall, but at least it wouldn't hurt too much this way.

Van hit the ground, bracing himself with one arm. The impact jarred him a little, but nothing extraordinarily painful. Dilandau's grip on him fell away, his weight transferring to the ground and crushing Van's hands between his back and the grass.

"Gods," Van gasped, touching his head briefly to Dilandau's chest. Spreading his wings took a lot out of him. Dilandau opened his eyes.

"Holy shit, I guess I made it to Heaven after all," Dilandau said in wonder. He looked up at Van with awe. "And they give me an angel that looks like Van. Figures."

"You should learn to be more appreciative for your good fortune," Van said, amused by his comment. Dilandau reached out boldly and touched one of Van's wings. He ran his hand along the top of one, feeling the downy whiteness.

"These feel so real," he whispered. A feather drifted down and he caught it, rubbing it against his face. Then a frown glanced across his face. "I'm not dead, am I."

Van took a necessary precaution and wrapped his free arm around Dilandau's and then tucked his hand around the boy's back. 

Then he shook his head, smiling. "Not by a long shot."

"Damn it! I can't even commit suicide without you intervening! That's it! That's the last straw! I'm going to rip you from limb to limb!" Dilandau shouted. He tried to push against Van, but he found he was pinned by the boy's arms, which _he_ was pinning down by lying on them. 

"Why in the _hell_ would you do something like that? There is nothing more cowardly then taking your own life," Van replied. 

"Shut up and get off me. I'm going to pluck you like a chicken, boil you, and eat you for dinner. And then I'm going to burn your bones, cover them with dirt, and then burn them again! Goddamnit get off me!" Dilandau fumed. Van grew tiresome as the boy continued threatening him with tales of burning his various body parts.

"For god sakes, shut up!" Van finally said in exasperation. To his amazement, Dilandau did. The silver-haired boy's eyes turned cold, and they moved to look at his wings in…not awe, but something else. _What is he thinking? _Van wondered.

"Draconian," Dilandau affirmed. His voice sounded triumphant. Van nodded. "Get off me," Dilandau then restated.

"Oh shit," Van sighed. He lay down fully on Dilandau in defeat, resting his head on the soldier's chest. Then a thought struck him. "I'm not moving until you calm down," he said.

"If you don't get off me, I'm going to kill you," Dilandau retorted, his muscles tensing.

"Now where have I heard that before?" Van mumbled. "If you were going to kill me, you would have done it before. Besides, if you really wanted me off you, I'm sure you could buck me off or eventually squirm out of my grasp."

"I'd puncture a lung if I did that," Dilandau said in frustration.

"Then we'll just lay here for a little while," Van replied, smiling.

"Fuck!" Dilandau exclaimed, his retort lacking its usual eloquence. Van took the opportunity and relaxed, curling his wings around him, creating an absurd canopy above him and Dilandau.

"Relax," Van commanded after a few minutes.

"Pigeon," said Dilandau. Van felt the younger boy loosen up a little bit. When Dilandau had gone completely limp, he sat up, slipping his hands from underneath Dilandau and re-pinned the boy's arms above his head. Surprisingly, Dilandau didn't protest. His blood-red eyes were dull.

Dilandau, Van realized, was defeated.

__

Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe I can actually try Hitomi's way of doing things, and I can succeed!

"Dilandau?" Van asked cordially, wanting to start a new relationship on the right foot.

"Big pigeon," Dilandau replied. His voice was low and hollow. Van rolled his eyes and decided to get to the point.

"Why did you kiss me?" he asked softly. 

"Big, stinking pigeon."

"You're not being helpful. Did you kiss me to tease me? To hurt me even more then you already have?" Van pressed. He leaned in closer. _Come on Dilandau, was it something more? Was that person I knew in Celena shining through?_

"Big, _fucking_, stinking pigeon," said Dilandau.

Van sighed. He switched tactics.

"What made you do it? You're supposed to hate me, remember?" Van mused, more to himself then the albino. Gently he leaned down and brushed his lips to Dilandau's in hopes of getting something out of the boy.

Dilandau closed his eyes. "I. Hate. Pigeons."

"Why…why are you so angry?" Van whispered. His heart felt sad.

Garnet eyes flashed open.

"Because I am a monster! A perfect bloodthirsty killing machine! But I'm a malfunctioning creation, aren't I? I'm not perfect because _I can't beat you_. You always win, Pigeon. I hate you! I hate you! I fucking hate you!" Dilandau screamed. He tried to rise, but fell against the ground in pain. He writhed for a moment and then lay deathly still, his anger gone as quickly as it had came.

Van swallowed thickly. Had he been fooled again?

"I'm sorry," he said lamely. Dilandau gave a classic smirk and then his eyes dulled and his face turned into a mask of sorrow. Van felt him go completely limp.

"Damn pigeons," was all he said.

Van sighed. He took in Dilandau's dead eyes, his slack body. It reminded him of when he had first seen his brother's face on the _Vione_ so many colors ago. So broken and sad, like his reality and hope had just been shattered. Van took a chance and brushed some of Dilandau's ash-colored locks away from his eyes. The strands felt like silk.

And then Van let go. 

He got up from his knees and stood above the pale boy. Dilandau turned on his side and closed his eyes like a broken thing. Van bent down and picked Dilandau up like he would his bride. The soldier didn't protest in the slightest. 

Van then took a deep breath and then jumped into the air, pumping his wings to lift him. Slowly he rose above the manor and pine trees and finally into the clouds. Dilandau didn't stir. He felt his cheek twitch in irritation.

So he dropped him. 

Van simply put his arms down without any warning whatsoever. The instant he did so he felt Dilandau's hand snap onto his shoulder and another wrap firmly around his waist. Inwardly he jumped for joy. Outwardly, he put his arms around Dilandau to support him.

"Nice trick, Pigeon," Dilandau said, his breath whistling in Van's ear.

Van stared at the perfect alabaster skin of Dilandau's shoulder. "So I take it you're not suicidal anymore."

"I plead temporary insanity," he replied.

"Temporary?" Van asked. He couldn't resist. 

Dilandau said nothing and Van then decided he didn't want to push his luck. He folded his wings and dropped sharply towards the roof. Dilandau flinched and held on tighter at the movement. Van smiled and then flapped his wings like sails so that he landed smoothly on the roof.

"Don't you ever…_ever_…do that again," Dilandau said darkly, muttering in Van's ear. He let go of the king and stepped back. His hand was on his chest, and Van saw that he was wheezing slightly. 

__

The thinner air must have made it hard on him. Van grimaced and retracted his wings, feeling extremely tired all of a sudden.

"I think you outweigh me," he said. He sat—or rather, _fell_—down on the rooftop.

"I would think so," Dilandau said. He sat down in front of Van, folding his arms across his chest.

__

Defiant as always.

"What do we do now?" Van asked.

Dilandau sighed. "You're not going to kill me, are you." It was a statement, not a question. Van answered it nonetheless.

"No."

"Then you have officially fucked all my plans," Dilandau replied.

"I would have fucked with them more if I would have killed you," Van pointed out. Dilandau snorted and lay down. "What were your plans?"  
  
"Kill Allen, separate from Celena, kill you, kill the Madoushi, and go find a war," Dilandau said in a cryptic tone. His disposition was hard to judge. Van realized that the soldier was experiencing something he'd never thought would happen: total defeat. He also saw that Dilandau trying to deal with the idea that Van _didn't _hate him. Throughout his entire life, Dilandau had only been surrounded by people who had either felt extreme loyalty or _extreme_ hatred towards him. Now he was without someone who depended on him, and Van didn't hate him.

Van scooted a little closer, the sensitive side of him that Hitomi had found taking over. "What about Celena?" he asked. 

"She would be taken care of, don't worry. I'd make sure her life was completely separate from mine. Anyway, she's too much of a handicap to have around," Dilandau replied. He stood up and began walking away.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Van called, scrambling to his feet. He feared another lethal jump.

"Getting off this damn roof. I'm getting sunburned."

"What do you mean, 'sunburned?'" Van had never heard of such a thing.

"The sunlight is burning my skin, dumbshit. You're a very tan individual and because of your darker skin tone, you probably have never burned. I however, have the palest skin on the planet and will be turning bright red any second now," Dilandau replied impatiently. He crouched on the edge of the roof, eyeing a tree.

"Oh," Van said. He looked down at his own bronze chest and then at Dilandau's pale, milk-white one. Van once more focused his energy and spread his wings. Dilandau turned and raised an eyebrow.

"What are you doing, Pigeon?" he asked. 

"Getting you off the this roof. I'd rather take you down then have you slip and fall trying to climb in a window." 

Dilandau said nothing and walked up to Van, staring at his wings as if seeing them for the first time. He looked up and then ran his hand along the top of one wing. Van shivered and flicked it back reflexively, making Dilandau jump back a good 10 feet.

"It tickles," he explained, unable to hide a smile.

Dilandau's red eyes glared at him venomously and then he walked around Van's wings until he was behind him. The Draconian tensed. Then he felt Dilandau's hands at the base of his wings. They ran along his back, feeling around the connection between the feathery appendages and his skin. Then the hands left, and Van held his breath.

After a moment, Van felt Dilandau's arms slide around his waist. The albino's slippery, silky skin touched his back and Van knew he was being hugged from behind. Dilandau put his forehead on Van's shoulder. 

"I can't do it. I can't kill you," he whispered in Van's ear. The winged boy felt Dilandau's hands clench, and he looked down and saw a sharp and nasty looking piece of roof tile in the pale grasp.

"Believe it or not," Van whispered, putting his hand on Dilandau's wrist and his other curling around his cheek, "that's a _good_ thing." Carefully he retracted his wings and turned around. Dilandau stared at him with a bewildered look in his eyes, like a lost child. Van put his arms around the taller boy's neck and pulled him close. He couldn't resist running one hand through the soldier's silver tresses.  


Dilandau let one harsh sob escape his lips, but no tears came. Van held him a little closer, his new scar pressing against Dilandau's old one. After a moment, he began softly humming a Fanelian lullaby Folken had taught him.

Halfway through, Dilandau interrupted him in a brittle voice, "You're tone-deaf, Pigeon."

Van smiled as he felt the tile in Dilandau's hands slip and clatter on the rooftop.

And then he began humming again.

~*~


	6. Billy Jane

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Six: Burning Down

__

"It is hard to fight an enemy who has outposts in your head."

--Sally Kempton, American Writer

~*~

Dilandau slowly stroked the feathers on Natal's back. His eyes rolled languidly with his hand's movements.

__

Back and forth. Back and forth. I just keep going back and forth.

Natal had discovered him, rather then the other way around. Dilandau had been lying in the bathtub, occasionally remembering to wash his body and hair, when the bird had flown in and dive-bombed into the water. That was, Dilandau hated to admit, one of the scariest experiences of his life. Birds usually didn't dive into one's bath unexpectedly. It's not like the owl was thinking of cleaning itself, was it?

Though, it soon became clear that that _was_ exactly what had crossed Natal's mind. The bird had surfaced and hopped onto the side of the tub, clutching the porcelain rim with his talons and then began the extensive job of preening himself. Dilandau had watched the stupid bird in fascination. He figured that the owl had undoubtedly assumed that he was Allen.

Which was an insult towards Dilandau, and gave him very weird ideas on why Allen would ever encourage the owl to bathe with him. 

__

Disturbing…That about summed up his feelings towards the bird's bathing habits.

So now he was simply sitting in the bathtub, petting a damp owl. Never in his life had he ever thought he would be doing such a thing. But then again, he never thought in his entire life that he wouldn't be able to kill Van Fanel. Or that he would feel so strangely about him.

"Pigeon," he said out loud. Natal turned and looked at him with obvious distaste. Dilandau felt that he was going to like this bird. "Not you," he told the owl.

"Hoot," said Natal. _Not much for conversation, ne?_

Dilandau felt the same draining emotion he had felt when Celena had resurfaced. Nothing made sense anymore, and everything was going the exact opposite of what he wanted. He had, for the first time in his life, wholly admitted his defeat. He was not the unstoppable perfect warrior the Madoushi had made him to be.

Stupid bastards. They should have at least taken away my emotions and let me be more machine then human. Dumbshits.

He took a breath and ducked under the water. He lay there for a few minutes, feeling warm and in control. Dilandau thought that this might have been what a womb must have felt like. He was displeased that he had never had one. If only he could stay here forever, and leave the entire messy business with Van alone. Simply sit and float in a cocoon of false happiness. However, eventually he would have to take a breath.

Dilandau came back up sputtering. Natal turned around and hooted his displeasure at being drenched by Dilandau's splashing.

"Hoooooot," growled the owl in a low tone.

"Eat me," Dilandau replied. Natal bristled and puffed up, alternately showing himself off and drying his feathers as well. Dilandau felt around for a sponge, then picked it up and began gently scrubbing his sunburnt shoulders. He had just come down from the roof only a short time ago (via "Pigeon") and was soaking in the water to help his dried-out skin. He absently wondered if Celena had any lotion. He couldn't remember any. 

__

Even if there was any, it would probably smell horridly feminine.

For once Dilandau wished Folken were around with his medicated herbal ointment that he had used for previous sunburns. However, if he had known that Folken always slipped a skin-absorbed sedative in with his concoction, he probably wouldn't have wanted it. 

Dilandau sighed and rinsed his hair. The water plastered the locks to his skull, and he looked at Natal and smiled goofily. 

"Hoot Hoot!" Natal hooted approvingly. 

__

I'm a hoot. Ha ha.

Dilandau shook his head like a wet dog, causing his hair to spike out at weird directions like a spastic child had dried it. He slid down in the tub, letting the cooling water run over his aching shoulders and lap at his Adam's apple. He closed his eyes, feeling sleepy.

The mood he was in was one of exhaustion. Dilandau had burnt himself out so badly that he just didn't give a damn about anything anymore. Everything he had ever wanted to accomplish, all of his priorities, even his _emotions_ were completely bent out of shape. He had surrendered to this chaos, and found that if he took a look at the world with a numb disposition that covered his raw soul, life was ten times easier.

However, when the door to the washroom opened, Dilandau's soul went raw once more and he found it hard to continue his numb charade.

He heard Van (at least, he _assumed_ it was Van) pad across the floor, coming dangerously close to the bathtub.

__

Not now, Pigeon. I don't want to deal with you right now.

Though that was a lie. All Dilandau wanted to do was deal with Van. However, his motives had changed.

Then Dilandau felt a softness about his ears and covering his head. Gentle fingers massaged his scalp and sluiced the water from his silver tresses. He said nothing, allowing Van to towel his head dry in silence.

And in that very same silence, Dilandau dealt with the almost unbearable _wanting_ he felt rising up within him. His body yearned for Van to be closer to him. He wanted the boy-king not only caressing his head, but much more. Heat seemed to radiate from Van's fingertips, as if it could set Dilandau—oh, the irony—on fire. Dilandau took a disguised deep breath and fought down his wild emotions.

__

Damn hormones. The Madoushi should have gotten rid of those too.

He felt the towel be lifted from his head, and then Van's fingers traveled through his naked hair, alternately fluffing it and slicking it down in places. Dilandau waited patiently as the older boy played with his damp locks, even though the closeness of his body was absolute torture. Slowly the fingertips worked their way down from the crown of Dilandau's head to the back of the nape of his neck. They danced for a second on the surface of the water, then took the plunge and traveled to past his neck. As they ran across Dilandau's shoulders, he felt Van leaning in closer. The boy's dark hair brushed the back of his neck, and he felt Van's warm breath. Gently the fingers began massaging his shoulders, and Dilandau let out a hiss of pain. Immediately the fingers retreated.

"What's wrong?" Van whispered.

"Sunburn," Dilandau explained.

"Hoot," said Natal. Dilandau opened his eyes and mowed the bird down with look that could make entire armies fall to their knees in fear. Natal simply turned and walked to the far end of the bathtub.

"How bad?" Van asked. Dilandau sighed and sat up, the mood totally ruined.

"Not very. I'm not shaking and hallucinating," he said. He turned around to face Van. The boy-king was kneeling, wearing a pair of pale-blue pants.

"That can actually happen?" Van said, a frown on his face. Dilandau nodded and looked down at his pinkish shoulders.

"It'll go away in a little while," he concluded. Boldly (of course) he reached out with both hands and touched Van's bare shoulders. "Bronze," he said.

__

I feel another color fixation coming on.

Van reached out and touched Dilandau's airily spiked hair. "Silver."

The two boys stared at each other, both realizing how close they had become. 

"HOOT!" Natal screamed, annoyed with the lack of attention. Van started laughing and Dilandau turned and chucked the sponge at the owl's head. It connected beautifully, and Natal fell off the rim of the tub and a wet "plop!" could be heard as the bird hit the ground. 

"Damn owl," Dilandau muttered. His frown however, turned to a smile as he saw Natal walking away, growling in anger.

"Nice throw," Van said, " I hope you didn't hurt him."

"Nah," Dilandau said. _The thing had to bathe with Allen…what could be harder then that? Well, I suppose bathing with _Dornkirk_ would be worse._

And that was such a disturbing thought Dilandau shivered and began looking for a towel, the idea of a bath losing its appeal.

"I brought you a towel," Van said. Dilandau turned and took the cloth from his outstretched hand. He noticed a slight pink tint to Van's cheeks. Dilandau smirked and stood up. Carefully he ran the towel over his burnt shoulders and over his bruised chest. He avoided Van's eyes as if he didn't care that the boy was trying—unsuccessfully, Dilandau noted—to not stare at his naked body.

__

Yeah, you like that Van? Aren't I a beautiful creation?

Dilandau stepped out of the tub, tying the towel around his waist.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked casually, pulling the plug.

Van sighed. "You are one vain bastard."

Dilandau cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "And I'm damn good at it."

Van "hmphed" and Dilandau turned and walked out the door. He heard Van call out in protest, but he ignored it and traveled down to Allen's room where he found a pair of loose black trousers. They were too long and Dilandau found himself having to roll up the ends. After a few more moments of searching, he found a—_blood red—_dark maroon shirt that he took such a liking too that he decided he had to keep it.

So off he went to Celena's room.

Dilandau curled up on the fluffy yellow bed with a miniscule needle and thread, intent on fixing the shirt until it suited him. Cold indifference flooded his veins.

A few days ago, this would have been another task Dilandau couldn't have imagined himself doing. Now, it was quite easy. It gave his numbed spirit some (although meaningless) direction.

__

I'm fixated on mending a shirt. Perhaps the popular opinion is right: I am _insane._

But Dilandau just kept stitching away. He had sliced off the long arms in favor of shorter ones, and now he was hemming the sleeves.

Van walked through the door and stopped, a look of bewilderment upon his face.

"You're…sewing?" he finally asked.

"Brilliant observation. Give the boy a prize," Dilandau replied sarcastically, his fingers flying.

Van's face blanched. "Why?"

"This shirt doesn't fit right. I killed half of the servants here and the others ran away, leaving me with no one to mend my clothing. That is why," Dilandau explained.

"You're Dilandau Albatou, you don't _sew_," Van persisted.

__

Actually, I don't know just who_ I am exactly. Isn't that ironic?_

"I _am_ sewing, so that proves you wrong, Pigeon," Dilandau said. 

A flash of pain flew up his pointer finger. Dilandau raised the hand to his dull gaze and stared at the blood droplets that were coursing down his finger. The sight of the crimson liquid on his bone-white knuckle ignited something inside Dilandau's heart he though had been destroyed when Van had stopped his suicidal plummet. Clarity came once again to Dilandau. He realized his fixation on Van was changing. Instead of the utter loathing he usually felt it was a sensation of a combination of fear and…lust? Is this what lust felt like? Make now mistake, Dilandau was still the maniacal assassin who gave even the bravest men bed-wetting nightmares. He had simply met his biggest enemy of all: his heart. Van had used his own tactics against him. He had gotten through Dilandau's aloofness.

__

Then, Dilandau vowed, _I will adapt. I will not be weak. I will take advantage of everything I can. This well _not_ stop me. But first…_

Dilandau quickly finished his stitching in fewer than four nanoseconds and slipped the shirt on. He stood up and walked up to Van, seeing his old grace and purposeful pride reflecting in the boy's cinnamon eyes. He raised his slightly bloodied hand and studied it. 

"I think I need to burn something," he announced.

And then his reflection disappeared from Van's eyes and all Dilandau saw were flames.

~*~

Dilandau would never know why he was a pyromaniac.

Perhaps it was because he was so good at controlling the flames that most people deemed untamable. Maybe it was because he could truly appreciate the total and utter destruction fire could bring. Or it was because everyone feared the blaze, with its terrible unpredictability. The flames never did the same thing twice; there was never a solid pattern. Fire was a good symbol for Dilandau.

And damnit, burning things just felt good.

For some reason, whenever Dilandau had gone (or was going) through a tough time or he had encountered a problem he didn't understand, his first reaction was to torch something. Anything would do.

Hence, there was always a fire extinguisher every thirty feet on the _Vione_ and one in every room. Folken had three in his bedroom alone, and three times that in his personal lab.

So when the young captain had burst into the Strategos' laboratory with his eyes bewildered and his movements frenzied, Folken made sure he could reach at least one device.

"Can I help you Dilandau?" the older man asked, bending over to look at his beaker. Folken was pretty sure the boy had come to discuss the Madoushi's papers that he had stolen the previous week. Which might be difficult, since even _he_ wasn't supposed to know of the boy's origins.

"Can _you_ help _me_? You can't even help yourself, Folken. But still…" Dilandau said, hopping up on one of the few clean spaces of a lab table. Folken tensed at the soldier's harsh words and at the fact he was sitting near some highly explosive experiments.

"But still?" the Strategos prodded, concentrating on adequately adding chemicals. The quicker this discussion was over, the quicker he could get back to work.

"What do you think of soldiers getting 'involved' with one another?" Dilandau asked point blank. Folken felt surprise wash over him, and he even cocked an eyebrow. Dilandau grinned. "I'm not talking about _me_ Strategos."

__

Why am I not surprised? 

"There is no rules against sexual activity between soldiers. Questions maybe raised concerning relationships between a soldier and a higher-ranking officer. However, I know that neither you nor the Zaibach Army will stand for a pregnant Dragonslayer, so I suggest you order the female soldier to start birth control at once," Folken said, mixing chemicals. It was hard to think that he was having this conversation with a 15-year-old.

"Refina is not sexually active nor is she involved with anyone. Besides, she had her tubes tied the minute she joined," Dilandau replied.

"Oh?" Folken said absently. He thought it would be amusing to see Dilandau deal with a PMS-ing female. Then the Strategos thought of the problems he that had when Naria and Eriya went into heat, and decided that he didn't want Dilandau dealing with anything like that. 

"It's Dalet and Chesta," Dilandau said, his voice had a bewildered ring to it. Folken felt surprise once more and his mixture turned an undesirable orange color. He gave up on finishing his project tonight. As usual, he did not respond to Dilandau.

"They're both guys," the captain stated. 

__

Oh really? Well that's good to know.

If you don't like their actions, order for it to be stopped," Folken said. Secretly he prayed Dilandau would let it be. The boys of the Dragonslayers had so little to take joy in; it was nice to know that they could find solace in each other.

Dilandau flew off—_the handle—_the table. "Do not tell me how to run my Dragonslayers!" he said, marching up to Folken (who wished for a fire extinguisher) in a terrifying manner. "I am Dilandau Albatou and if it wasn't for _me_ and _my_ Dragonslayers, Zaibach would be dead in the water!"

Folken stood, unperturbed by Dilandau's outburst. He noted the captain's lack of good grammar in favor of talking of himself first and foremost. He waited patiently while the soldier calmed down. After all, timing is everything.

"What is it that you want then?" he asked after a bit.

"Do you…" Dilandau's face softened, "Do you think it's possible for two men to love each other?"

Folken closed his eyes. _Boys, they're just _boys_._

"Dilandau, I am not one to ask about love," Folken said. He opened his eyes. "However, homosexuality has been around as far back as human existence on Gaea. It has been written about in ancient texts and scrolls. It is not a widely discussed topic, but I assume it happens, as they say, 'behind closed doors.'"

Dilandau made a face. "Let's hope so."

If it didn't hurt his heart so much, Folken would have laughed at the soldier's reactions. For once Dilandau appeared to be fifteen, not thirty.

"So," Dilandau continued, "You think it's possible. But is it right?"

"I make no judgments," was all Folken said.

"Your conversation could be more stimulating, Strategos," Dilandau said, smirking.

__

So could yours: 'Burn this, torch that'…I mean, who cares?

Folken blinked. He'd spent too much time in Asturia. Princess Eries' attempts—_stalking—_at making him interested in _her_ had consisted of conversation such as the mindless drivel he had just thought of.

Dilandau was walking away.

"Where are you going? Folken asked. The danger of Dilandau torching things to smoking bits had passed, but Folken was the cautious type.

"Gods, you are _not_ my mother, Strategos!" Dilandau stopped, frozen. "I don't have a mother."

Folken winced.

The captain shook his head and opened the door. Standing there were two boys: one with chin-length brown hair, the other a blonde with a bowl-cut. Both knew they were in deep trouble.

Dilandau said nothing. He simply reached out and knocked the boys' heads together in a blow that should have rendered them unconscious.

But Dragonslayers have hard heads, and the two stood back up, shaking. Folken was disgusted, yet said nothing. They were not his troops.

"I will not ask as to why you are standing at the Strategos' door at 12:30 a.m.," Dilandau began, "However, if I ever catch you out of your bunks at this hour again, I will beat you within an inch of your life. And that's if I'm in a good mood. Now, go back to your rooms immediately."

"Yes sir!" the two replied, bowing. They turned and began marching off on wobbly feet.

"Oh, and boys," Dilandau called out. The soldiers stopped and turned. "Your own, _separate_ rooms tonight. I do not care what or _who_ you do in your off time, as long as it does not interfere with your training or abilities. Tonight, you have already missed half of a good night's sleep. I suggest you don't miss the rest."

"Yes sir," replied the two now-blushing Dragonslayers.

Dilandau turned back to Folken. "Sweet dreams, Strategos." He closed the door.

Folken sat down and put his head on the table. He never knew what to do about Dilandau, what the boy was thinking, or what he was going to do next.

The young man sat there for another couple of minutes, trying to coax his brain back into a working state of mind. He had just gotten back to his ruined concoction when the _Vione's _superb (not to mention well used) fire alarm system sounded.

Folken sighed and grabbed a fire extinguisher.

~*~

Van decided that he didn't understand Dilandau at all.

He was not alone in this decision. Countless others before him had given up and simply accepted Dilandau for what he was. Whatever that is.

First Dilandau hated him with a lethal fury. Next he had seemed to be a broken thing that could care less if Van were alive, dead, or somewhere in-between. Now he seemed to have returned to his usual self (what, just exactly, _was_ Dilandau's usual self?), save for the fact that the boy wasn't trying to kill him. To Van, it felt like they were dancing on knives. 

Currently Dilandau was tossing more of Allen's clothes onto a huge bonfire in the front lawn. He had decided to do away with most of the Knight's clothing and his huge array of cologne and hair care products. Van had mostly watched in silence, deciding not to press the subject of how incredibly flammable the latter belongings were.

And so Dilandau burned the remnants of Allen's room (he insisted that he must _rid_ himself of the man's putrid presence). Van burned sausages.

Dilandau came up behind him, carrying the last of the clothes. "You're cooking sausages? This is a bonfire, not a campfire, Pigeon."

"I'm hungry," Van said bluntly. "Couldn't you have at least left the chef alive?"

"Couldn't you have left my Dragonslayers alive?" Dilandau retorted. 

__

Ouch.

"You know, I think you and I need to have a serious chat," Van said, taking his sausages out of the flames.

"You and I don't need to have anything," Dilandau replied. He sat beside Van and took a sausage for himself. 

"You need clothes," Van pointed out, biting into a sausage.

"I kept all the clothes I wanted," Dilandau said. He set his sausage on fire. 

"Oh, I see," Van said. He eyed the albino's flaming sausage warily. Dilandau looked at it for a second, then blew the flames out. 

"I want Celena back," the pale boy said after a bit. Van sighed.

"I don't know if I can let you," he replied.

Dilandau frowned. "Let _me_? I will go and get her, make no mistake."

__

I can't let him get away. I don't know him well enough.

"Dilandau, you are the person who incinerated entire countries, killed hundreds of people, and made thousands suffer. You are wanted, or you shall be, for war crimes in Freid, Asturia, and Fanelia. If any of the other countries' governments knew of your existence, you would be hunted down and eventually killed. You may be a fantastic soldier, but even _you_ can't take on three armies and come out victorious," Van said slowly. He turned and looked at Dilandau. "Right now, I'm the only friend you got."

"I know," Dilandau sighed, eating his sausage. "I've thought through my situation and I'm left with very few options. I can get by without Celena. It's early in the separation, which is the only reason I'm missing her so badly." The albino began to laugh, a loud and frightening sound that Van remembered so well. Dilandau stood up and looked down at him, cocking his silver head. "Isn't this a strange turn of events?"

"What are you thinking?" Van asked patiently. 

"I'm wondering why you don't hate me. I'm wondering why you aren't charging me with those so-called 'war crimes' of Fanelia. You have a duty to your country to seek and destroy the enemy that decimated your land. That, of course, would be me," Dilandau said, abruptly switching topics.

Folken would have said it was because Van had a gentle soul.

Hitomi would say it was because he was a genuinely good person.

Van said, "Because I like you. Regardless of your past actions, I see before me a changed person who is _not_ the same individual I met and fought with during the Great War."

"The only change is that I'm not randomly switching genders," Dilandau said dryly. "You will find that I am very much the same person I was."

"Then I'm seeing a different side of you," Van said. He looked down at his feet.

Dilandau nodded, enlightened. "I suppose you are, Pigeon."

"Well, then that makes two of us," Van said with a smile. He looked up at the soldier, but all he saw was a flash of alabaster skin as Dilandau hit him squarely in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious.

~*~

****

A/N: Another boring chapter that was mercifully short. *Scratches head* Currently I have lost all direction this story is supposed to be taking. Though I do have a new idea. I know, I know, you're all waiting for some Dilly and Van snoggin', but—

****

Van: Hold everything! I did _not_ sign on to do pornography!

****

Allen: I did!

****

Dornkirk: Me too!

****

rainjewel: Now that's just plain wrong. As I was saying, I know you're all waiting for—

****

Dilandau: Finally! A chapter in which I got to burn something!

****

Folken: So, why didn't I get fire extinguishers in the series?

****

rainjewel: I'm trying to do an Author's Note here! Folkie-poo, I'll deal with you later. *wink* Dilandau, I have a very large supply of water balloons. I'll make this quick: Dilly and Van snoggin' (or at least some action) is a great possibility in the near future. 

****

Van: Get me my manager.

****

Dilandau: Get a life.

****

Van: Get some sanity.

****

rainjewel: Okay boys, back to your cages.

~*~


	7. Hades

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Seven: Into the Woods…or why Dilandau should have joined the Boyscouts

****

A/N: I would like to dedicate this chapter to my lamb Tenshi no Tsubasa "Wombat" McAllister (I know it's a rather long and unusual name) who died on August 13, 2001. May he rest in little lambie heaven and eat _a lot_ of hay and grain. I'm sorry for everything.

~*~

"Hitomi! Come on, I don't want to have to _drag_ you down the sidewalk!" Yukari practically screamed. Hitomi picked up her pace a little.

"Yukari, for the last time, where are you taking me?" she pleaded. Yukari had just spent the past hour in her room throwing clothes all over hill and dale in search of the "perfect outfit" which turned out to be a short, flower print peasant dress and white sandals. She wouldn't say why Hitomi needed to be wearing this "perfect outfit," and it was becoming frustrating

"We are going to Amano's house," Yukari said finally, tugging on her arm.

"Why? Yukari, that's practically across town," Hitomi complained.

"It's not all the way across town. We'll take the subway, my treat," her redheaded friend said, not answering as to why they were going. 

As the two girls sat down on the bus, Yukari swung her legs up on the bench and looked at the green-eyed girl soulfully.

"You need to perk up, my girl. You look as if you were being led off to the gauntlet or something. Either that or you need about eight shots of espresso running through your system," Yukari said over her knees. She had just returned from a month-long vacation with her family to America, and now had a fierce caffeine addiction.

Hitomi sighed. "I wouldn't look like I was being led off to the gauntlet if I was sure that I _wasn't_. Come on, why are we going to Amano's house?"

"Because you are going on a double date with us," Yukari said coolly.

"WHAT?" Hitomi gasped. "A double date? Yukari, what in the heck did you just get me into?"

"Oh, come on," Yukari said, "You've been moping around for the past couple of weeks like the apocalypse was coming any second. Now, I know you missed me a bunch when I left for the States, but really, this is overkill. You are going to meet a nice young man and go have some fun for once."

Hitomi hung her head. She was _not_ ready for this. Every time she would look into her date's eyes she would see Van. And then her heart would falter, and she'd know once again that she'd made a mistake by leaving Gaea and coming home. 

__

But, what if this guy takes my mind off things? I told Van I was going to move on with my life. Why haven't I done that? This is how it happens. Just don't think of him, Allen, and everyone else on Gaea. Focus on the future, not on the past.

This was a technique Hitomi had been using ever since she had cut her connection to Van. She simply refused to think about him. Bury him away. She knew that she couldn't go back Gaea. Her wishes, her emotions, everything about her were too much of an influence on the planet. Eventually, she would bring destruction to the world she loved so much. 

"Does…does he have black hair?" Hitomi whispered. If he had black hair, that was it.

"Now that's more like it!" Yukari cheered. She hugged Hitomi. "No, he doesn't have black hair. He's one of Amano's friends from another school. He has deep, reddish brown hair kinda like mine, and green eyes, I do believe."

"What's his name?" Hitomi asked.

"It was something very American-sounding. That's where he was born, you know. He just came to Japan a couple of years ago. Kev—Kevin Littleton."

"Kevin Littleton," Hitomi repeated, her tongue rolling weirdly over the "l's."

"Yep, come on, it's our stop. Amano lives two blocks away from here." Yukari practically _flew_ off of the subway and went racing up the stairs, pulling the honey-haired girl with her.

When Amano's house finally came into sight, Hitomi found she was having trouble breathing. She tried to build up her courage and failed, miserably.

Yukari knocked on the front door. Hitomi screwed in her most pleasant smile. 

"Yukari, Hitomi!" Amano exclaimed as he opened the door. "You're early."

"What, you're not happy to see me?" Yukari pretended to pout. Hitomi tried not to vomit all over her sandals.

"You know that's not true. I'll get Kevin and then we can leave," Amano said, smiling.

"I'm already here," said a voice. Hitomi gasped. It sounded like Van. _It's just my imagination. It's just my imagination. Calm yourself down._

"So you are," said Amano. He came out of the doorway with a young man following so close behind him that Hitomi couldn't see his face.

"Well then, I suppose I should introduce myself," said the voice from behind Amano. Slowly a red-haired boy stepped out in front of his companion. "My name is Kevin Littleton."

"Nice to meet you, Kevin. My name's Yukari Uchida, and this is Hitomi Kanzaki." She elbowed Hitomi. The green-eyed girl stared at Kevin.

"Ah, so this is the marvelous Hitomi I've heard so much about," Kevin said. He extended a hand. "Nice to finally meet you in person."

Hitomi tried to say something, but she couldn't form words. The boy had a haircut like Van's. His eyes were the same shape as her Fanelian king's, even though the color was different. His build was the same, his height as well. 

"I'm delighted," she said, numbly. Mechanically, Hitomi lifted her hand to meet his. She smiled at him, and then to Amano, whose hair had suddenly turned blonde and his eyes were blue in color.

And then the world collapsed into total blackness. 

~*~

As Hitomi Kanzaki fainted into the arms of a Van Fanel lookalike, Dilandau was pulling up to a river to let his horse drink. The possibility of camping there for the night was also a big possibility. 

"Damn," Dilandau sighed as he hopped off his horse. He knelt by the riverside and splashed some of the cool water on his face. It was hot in Asturia this time of year. Luckily it was cooling down since the sun had began its descent to the horizon.

The soldier stood back up and walked over to his horse that was busy guzzling water at an extremely dangerous rate. _Stupid animal. Pigeon, you should have taught your horse that it should take all things in moderation._

"Stop that," Dilandau commanded, pulling the animal away from the river. The horse snorted, but remained still. He reached out and lifted the unconscious Van Fanel off of the back of the creature. He set the boy down on the cool, wet soil of the stream and then unsaddled his mount. Carefully the albino walked over to the higher dry ground and laid the tack there. Then he went back to retrieve the Fanelian King.

"Don't go anywhere," he told the horse. Dilandau then slung Van over his shoulder and marched back over to the clearing. The dumb horse followed him, grazing leisurely. _Whatever._ He scanned the forest, checking out the firewood situation. Granted, he could make a blaze from most anything, but he didn't want to complicate things. He wouldn't need a fire until late in the night, but preparedness is a sign of a good soldier. Dilandau set Van down and went in pursuit of some flammable material.

As the soldier was picking up the last of the wood, he felt an unaccustomed weight drop onto his shoulder, unbalancing him. Low and behold, it was Natal.

"Hoot!" the owl exclaimed triumphantly.

"You need a larger vocabulary," Dilandau said, walking back over to the meadow. "For a bird that was so loyal to Allen, you certainly don't seem upset by affiliating yourself with the man who killed him."

Natal squeezed his eyes shut and purred. He began nuzzling Dilandau's right cheek. The boy jerked his shoulder so fiercely that the owl was lifted up into the air. 

"HOOT!"

Dilandau took a deep breath and dropped his firewood. "Don't. Don't ever touch that cheek." He wiped a hand along his scar, calming himself with the familiar motion. Natal seemed to understand and returned to his roost, though this time he switched shoulders. It reminded Dilandau of the weight of his shoulder armor. _About the same weight, but this only protects one shoulder and has feathers. What_ is _Zaibach coming too?_

He chuckled. Natal cooed his puzzlement. Carefully Dilandau bent down and looked at his bound captive. He had been riding since yesterday afternoon, only stopping once when Van had woken up at about 2 a.m. 

__

*** 

Dilandau reached up and helped Van down from the horse. The boy looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. As his feet hit the ground, his body continued, collapsing into a small Fanelian heap.

Dilandau looked down at the boy with unmasked surprise. He crouched carefully beside him, wary of the fact that Van might be faking. He reached out and brushed the dark locks away from Van's face, and saw that his pupils were dilated and the boy was breathing heavily. 

"Hit you one too many times in the head," he said. Van obviously did not_ have the resiliency of his Dragonslayers. "Well, I suppose it comes with practice."_

The king shakily rose to his feet. "Hitomi?" 

"No," Dilandau said, rising. Van turned and looked at him with the most bewildered look on his face. Perhaps the guy had a concussion.

"Oh. Hi Dilandau," Van said. Then his knees bent and he passed out. Dilandau caught him as he fell.

"Damn."

***

Which is precisely what Dilandau was thinking of again. He felt the dryness of the boy's skin and knew that he was in danger of getting severely dehydrated. Van was quite possibly in a semi-serious condition and that was going to slow him down. 

"Okay Pidge, we're going to have to take care of you then. Can't have you dying on me. I need you to get what I want," Dilandau said. He leaned down, cut Van's ropes, and then picked him up. Natal disliked the movement and flew off somewhere. 

Dilandau walked to the riverside. He stripped down to his boxers and took Van's shirt off. He was near a deep pool of the river, but there was a thin shelf of sand extending from the small beach. Gently he slipped Van into the water on the shelf, leaving only his head above the surface. 

"Turnabout is overrated," he muttered to himself. He sat down, letting the waves lap at his stomach. The cold water didn't awaken Van as expected, so Dilandau took some water and dumped it over the boy's head. "Wake up!" he commanded in his most pissed off and authoritative voice.

That worked. 

Van's eyes opened and he gasped loudly. Immediately he tried to sit up, which is the usual reaction most people have when the realization and natural fear of awakening to find oneself in water. Consequently, he took a dive into the deep end of the river.

Dilandau shook his head at the mess and waited patiently for the Fanelian king to come up sputtering. He waited. And waited.

"Shit," he said darkly. Van was weaker then he thought. Dilandau slipped into the deepness and after a moment's searching hauled the boy to the surface. Angrily his legs churned as he treaded water, clutching Van underneath his arms.

"You are a totally incompetent individual! A complete and utter moron!" he told Van fiercely as he held the boy an arm's length away. Van's head was bowed as he took in deep breaths of air. 

"Why am I wet?" Van asked bewilderedly. He looked up with cloudy eyes.

Dilandau growled. "Because you're in a river." Quickly he wrapped an arm around Van's waist and scissor-kicked his way to shallower water. He then set Van down. "Don't move. You're sick."

"I'm not sick. I'm wet," Van said, looking down at his drenched lap. Dilandau threw up his hands and marched over to the meadow, grabbing a canteen of water and then coming back to Van. The kid had a concussion all right. He probably shouldn't have let him remain unconscious with a concussion, but it was too late for that. Now he'd just have to keep him awake until he returned to normal. He remembered when Migel had gotten a concussion after capturing the military leaders of Egzardia, and the Dragonslayers had to camp overnight for some stupid reason he couldn't remember. He'd stayed awake all night, watching over Migel, keeping him awake. Dilandau might have been the most brutal and demanding of captains, but he took care of his men. He had set numerous broken bones, bandaged endless wounds, pulled out arrows, and (in dire situations) had stitched up serious injuries. Dilandau was a great doctor.

"It's Celena all over again," he murmured to himself. Dilandau splashed angrily into the water and held out the canteen to Van. "Drink this."

Van took the canteen. "Why?"

"Do it." Van did.

Dilandau stood in the deep end, a few feet away from the dark-haired boy. He felt overheated. _Too much sun_, he thought. _This is why the _Vione_ was so nice, air conditioning and artificial light._ He ducked under the water.

Van downed the water in the canteen and then slumped over in the sand. Dilandau surfaced and marched up to the boy again. 

"Stay awake," he ordered. 

"I'm tired," Van argued. Dilandau bent over, picked him up and stood him up in the deep end. Van perked up immediately.

"You have to stay awake. I don't want to have to poke and prod you. I haven't slept for two days and _I _want to sleep more then you know, but I can't have you dying or in a state of incoherency," Dilandau said. He let go of Van. Luckily the boy held his ground…at least for a miet or so. 

"Why not?" Van asked, unperturbed as he fell backwards and into Dilandau's grasp.

"Because I need you to get Celena," Dilandau said, dragging Van back until he could sit the boy down. "Now come on, snap out of it."

"Snap out of what?" Van asked, some of his old anger showing through. 

Dilandau sat down. "Exactly." He fought his urge to leave the Fanelian here and continue on his conquest to Zaibach. 

"Where is my shirt?" Van asked after a bit.

"On the beach," Dilandau said absently. His thoughts were on how exactly he was going to break into the capital of Zaibach and take over the Madoushi. Apparently General Adelphos had risen to become the emperor of Zaibach and the Madoushi were his council. In other words, he was a puppet king and the Madoushi were controlling the country.

__

Not for long…

"Where's your shirt?" Van asked. He seemed rather clothes oriented for some reason.

"On the beach."

"Why?" 

"Shut up Pigeon." 

Dilandau lay down on the cool sand, feeling the silky water slide over his skin. It came up until it touched the bottom of his earlobes. Usually, pyromaniacs are also hydrophobic, but Dilandau was a—_surprise!_—exception to this rule. He rather liked the water.

More military plans and strategies began to run through his head. The Madoushi were a highly selective group, like the Caeli Knights. There couldn't be more then twenty of them. He wouldn't have to worry about many of them being out of the country since they would be busy trying to rebuild and control the empire. It was too early for ambassadors to go traipsing about. At the capital would also be the headquarters for the sorcerers, the place where all of the most complicated and terrifying experiments were done. And if they weren't all at the capital, they'd be at the West Zion Academy, which was the one and only school for students who wished to become the unethical bastards. 

__

Not like I'm the most ethical person running—

Van was asleep.

"Damn," Dilandau whispered. He dowsed the boy in water again.

"W-what?" Van mumbled, waking up.

"If I can't sleep, you can't sleep, got it?" Dilandau said. 

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Van asked. Dilandau took comfort in the swearing. It wouldn't be much longer until Van returned to his normal self.

"Don't. Go. To. Sleep. It's a very simple concept," he snapped. Dilandau lay back down, trying to recapture his ideas.

__

Now where was I? Oh yes, I was—what's that?

Van was wrapping an arm around his waist. With more strength then Dilandau expected, he was pulled from behind until his shoulders hit Van's chest.

"What in the hell are you doing, Pigeon? What are you, drugged or something? Get off me!" Dilandau said, trying to wrestle himself away from the boy's grip.

"Hush. Go to sleep. If you go to sleep, then I can go to sleep. It's a very simple concept," the king whispered in his ear. Dilandau had a bad feeling Van was already back to his normal self. He suddenly went very still. "I like how your skin feels," Van confessed. Dilandau felt lips brush his shoulder.

__

Yes well, I use a moisturizing wash and follow-up with lotion. Great skin takes work.

"Van, let go of me," Dilandau ordered. He felt that weird fearful lust rise up in his chest again. 

"I don't want to," Van replied. Dilandau shivered from a phantom pain.

"Too bad," Dilandau said. With all his strength he shoved Van's arm away and scrambled to his feet. "Remind me never to hit you over the head again."

"Okay. Where are your pants?" Van asked, losing interest in the idea and returning to his clothes fixation.

"On the beach," Dilandau replied. The moment had passed. He felt his heart calm once more. "Which is where we're going right now. Get up."

The boy rose unsteadily to his feet. Dilandau slipped an arm around his waist and Van's arm slung across his shoulder. Together they walked to the clearing.

Dilandau sat Van on the ground. Reaching into his pack, he produced a blanket and tossed it to him, which Van didn't catch. The cloth draped over him like a shroud.

"I can't see," Van said dully. Dilandau shrugged and got a fresh change of clothes for himself and the other boy.

"Get dressed," Dilandau said, pulling the blanket off Van's head and dropping some clothes in his lap. Dutifully Van dressed while the paler boy got a fire started.

Fifteen minutes later, Dilandau sighed and sat back as the flames rose comfortingly into the sky. He rubbed a cheek on his shoulder, the flannel of his shirt feeling deliciously soft. Van wandered off to the edge of the clearing to undoubtedly relieve himself. Lazily he thought about getting up and making sure the boy didn't run off.

_Oh well, let him go where he wants. At least he's not asleep or molesting me._

Dilandau had just closed his eyes when he heard Van come running back.

"I saw a bear!" Van announced. Dilandau jumped to his feet, his eyes on his sword a few feet away.

"Where?" His heart thudded in his chest. He didn't like bears.

Van slipped the blanket around his shoulders. "At a festival in Fanelia."

Dilandau went white with anger. The need to hit Van welled up inside him, but he shoved it back down. Instead of beating the boy, Dilandau chose to sink down to his knees, rubbing his cheek ferociously.

"That's it!" he said, "I'm going to sleep. If you go to sleep and don't wake up, I officially don't give a damn. To hell with you, Van Fanel."

Dilandau then fell backwards onto the cool grass by the fire. He closed his eyes, letting the anger slip away. After a minute, he was totally relaxed and felt his much awaited and _very_ precious sleep beginning to overtake him. Vaguely he thought he heard Van walking away somewhere. _Good riddance._

And then he felt a light, warm weight on his chest, and he knew no more.

Van took the blanket from his own shoulders and draped it over Dilandau. It was semi-amusing how the boy had just fallen over and went to sleep. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Van slipped beneath the blanket as well, gently curling himself around Dilandau's frame. The albino sighed, yet did not awaken.

Van smiled. Concussion or not, he decided he liked Dilandau better unconscious. 

"I will make you love me, Prettyboy," he whispered into the soldier's ear. And then Van shut his eyes and lay his head on Dilandau's shoulder. After a moment, he too fell asleep

~*~

Van woke up slowly, like—coincidentally—a bear at the end of hibernation. His eyelids had never felt so heavy; his limbs had never felt so numb. And his bed had never felt so _hard_. 

__

Wait…

In total contrast to the way he felt, Van's eyes quickly snapped open. With a great amount control, he looked around his surroundings. He was outside, in the forest, and he had absolutely no idea where this place could possibly be. The last thing he remembered was being smacked over the head by Dilandau. 

Speaking of which, where was that maniac? He looked around.

"Oh," Van whispered, "You're right here." 

Amidst the folds of his blanket, Van found that Dilandau was on his side, curled against him in the fetal position. The boy's silver head barely touched the shoulder, but Van saw that his very own arm was draped about Dilandau's waist.

__

Um…what in the hell happened here? 

Van smiled. "Who cares?" he whispered out loud. He closed his eyes and bent down, resting his chin on his supposed enemy's head. He lay there for a few moments, breathing in Dilandau's scent (a combination of roses and musk). How he did it, Van didn't know. He wondered if Dilandau even knew he smelled faintly of roses. He couldn't picture the boy _trying_ or _wanting_ to smell like a flower.

"A total mystery," he murmured sleepily. Van felt like dozing off.

"Pigeon," Dilandau mumbled softly. Van felt the boy shift in his sleep so that he folded into him, his body pressing up against his own. Dilandau snored once, very lightly, then was silent once more. 

You know, for two people who are supposed to hate each other, we certainly do spend a lot of time doing things that I believe are extremely counterproductive.

Van was still as stone. He dared not move, for he would certainly break this fragile hold Dilandau had unknowingly put him into. He wouldn't open his eyes, but he felt the soldier's arms around his waist, his knees curled and pressed against Van's thighs, and his soft head resting on his shoulder. 

But of course, nothing lasts forever.

"Pigeon?" Dilandau suddenly said, louder and harsher then he had before. Van felt the boy's body tense and the flutter of Dilandau's eyelashes against his shoulder.

__

Play dead, just like you would with a wounded animal. Or act like a rock, I heard that works too.

"Sleeping Pigeon," Dilandau affirmed. "How in the hell did I get into this mess?"

__

Because you're so irresistibly cute when you sleep, Van thought.

"Thought you were awake," Dilandau said. Van snapped his eyes open.

"What?" he asked. 

"You shouldn't think out loud while trying to pretend you're unconscious," Dilandau said with a smirk Van could feel.

__

Damn. _I need to pay more attention._

"I'll work on that," Van replied, blushing. He was painfully aware that Dilandau hadn't pulled out of his embrace. He wondered why.

Dilandau nuzzled his shoulder. "Good. Now shut up. I'm going back to sleep."

"Okay," Van said, willing to follow this command. His head spun. Once again, nothing Dilandau was doing made sense.

"I told you to shut up," Dilandau sighed. His body relaxed once more.

After a moment, Van couldn't resist.

"Why haven't you pulled away?" he whispered into silver hair. Dilandau reached up and smacked him lightly on the back of the head. At least, it was lightly for Dilandau.

"You're more comfortable then the ground and this way I can keep you in check. Now, just count your blessings and shut the hell up!" he growled into Van's sleeve.

__

I'm comfortable? I suppose I should take that as a compliment. Though, it doesn't require much to achieve a higher comfort level then rock-hard soil. Oh well.

"You're shivering," Van whispered after awhile. It was true. The boy was trembling slightly, like his body was incapable of relaxation. 

"No I'm not," Dilandau said uselessly.

"Yes you are. Why, are you cold?" Van asked. Perhaps he was sick.

"Pigeon, if you open that mouth of yours one more time, I'm going to cut off your tongue," Dilandau threatened.

Van took the safe way out and said nothing more. He freed a hand and tugged the blanket up to his chin, covering the better half of Dilandau's head. He then wrapped his arm around Dilandau's shoulder once again.

"Trying to smother me?" Dilandau said. Van wondered if the boy was ever going to go back to sleep.

"No," he replied.

"Well, then aren't you the ever-thoughtful bird," came Dilandau's whisper.

"I'm not a bird," Van said, not quite catching on.

"Hush, Pigeon. Tomorrow we fight the Madoushi," Dilandau admonished. Van opened his mouth to reply, but Dilandau raised his head and covered whatever response Van had with a swift kiss. "Just sleep the day away. Sleep it all away," Dilandau whispered, his lips moving down Van's cheek and neck until his head once again rested on the king's chest. 

Van decided that Dilandau could be quite persuasive, and bowed his head. He shut his eyes, kissed the top of the albino's head, and then obediently wandered off to dreamland.

~*~


	8. Penelope

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Eight: Crash and Burn

****

A/N: A warning to you all, this is going to be disturbing! Please do not complain to me about my sick mind, for I told you that this was going to be a twisted little tale. *evil laughter is heard* Have fun!

__

"If you need fall apart

I can mend a broken heart

If you need to crash then crash and burn

You're not alone."

— Savage Garden (Darren Hayes and Daniel Jones) 

~*~

Dilandau was becoming a professional at this fake-love game. Pulling the heartstrings of whomever he chose was becoming as easy as picking up a sword. He could make _anyone _fall in love—or at least in "like," whatever the hell _that_ meant—with him (provided they didn't know about his previous…actions). Now he was beginning to understand why Allen did it so often. Dilandau bet he could beat the knight at his own game.

Even if it was a bit harder for him to keep it up then it had been for Sleeve-boy.

Even if it was more taxing on his stamina and acting skills.

Even if it was Van.

Yesterday, he had fallen back on his "love game" and had, for the small price of some of his delicious kisses, won over Van completely. He had choked back that tantalizing emotional concoction of fear and lust, and had simply become the soldier doing what was needed to achieve his prize.

The prize was the death of the Madoushi.

And all he had to do was open the door to his old—_killing_—stomping grounds.

Dilandau turned. "Well, my dearest Fanelian king, just stay by my side and let me work. Do not get in the way. Do not get sentimental. Do not do anything. But do remind me again, why are you allowing me this rampage?" 

"These people killed my brother. I feel no need to protect them, for they are not innocent," Van said darkly. "Where are we going, exactly?" He looked up at the tall steps that led to the Capitol building. It was the place where Emperor Dornkirk had resided; it was the ground that had been bathed in his brother's blood. 

"We are going to the headquarters of the Madoushi. This is where I spent the first six years of my life, if you can call it that," Dilandau replied. _This is where monsters are created. Welcome to the lab from hell._

Dilandau braced himself. This was going to bring back a lot of pain.

Van pushed the door open. 

"Let's go," he said. Dilandau nodded, for once thankful of Van's sensitivity.

Dilandau pushed through, going straight for the lab. He would have to do this stealthily and quietly if he were going to get what he wanted. If the guard were alerted, then the entire Zaibach army would be upon him. Which could really put a crimp in his style.

As he was running/crouching down the halls (_Can't be spotted, can't let anyone see. There's a monster on the loose, and guess what…it's me!_), Dilandau passed by the glass-encompassed garden where he had spent his time when he had reverted to Celena. He stopped dead in his tracks when he had seen it, staring at the glass with a fury that even dazzled him. Fury at the pain he felt. 

Van stopped, not understanding.

"This is Celena's garden," Dilandau said, offering nothing more. Van put a hesitant hand on Dilandau's shoulder. He shrugged it off and began moving once more. "On the other side of that wall is the outside training fields. It all begins here."

"Guard," Van whispered. Dilandau held up his hand to shush him, then simply stepped out in front of the soldier.

"Remember me?" he asked brightly. The guard's face blanched and then Dilandau's blade flashed through the air, and the soldier's head was gone. Simple as that.

Dilandau kept moving, his eyes scanning for any obstacles he had to get rid of. Van stayed close by his side. He could tell the boy was repulsed by Dilandau's lack of respect for the "value of human life," but he said nothing. 

Pigeon, you shouldn't compromise your morals for people you care about. Tell me that I'm wrong…give me an excuse to hate you.

After another two minutes, five guards, and seven tunnels, Dilandau had come to the main door of the lab. He turned to Van. 

"Everyone should be in here. I announced throughout the capitol that there was to be a meeting ordered by Emperor Adelphos for all the Madoushi in the main lab. There will be perhaps twenty or more. If you would like to help, feel free. I have only one rule: Do not kill the bald man with a large nose and glasses. I get him."

Van nodded, looking rather green. "I'll watch your back."

"Actually, you could do me a favor without killing anyone. This lab is in the shape of one big circle. Their are four other doors besides this one, if I remember correctly. Follow this hallway and lock them," Dilandau said. 

"Watch yourself," Van warned. Dilandau lifted an eyebrow, then watched Van run off down the hallway. He then threw open the doors to greet twenty-plus geniuses standing in full black leather.

"Why hello, gentlemen!" he said coldly, locking the door behind him. "You're wonderful lab rat has returned to you! Do you remember me? I'm what happens when experiments go _horribly_ wrong."

Every single head turned, staring at him. Though probably all of them had extremely high IQ's, all looked completely baffled. Dilandau continued his rant, walking around the grouped men. They stood in a cluster in the middle of the room, which had been thoughtfully cleared for Adelphos' "meeting."

"So, you thought I was failure. You thought that I could actually _fail_ at something? Are you all mad?" Dilandau gave an insane laugh, just to make the scene ironic. His body sang for blood. "You, who after endless poking and prodding, after thousands of lies and buckets of pain, thought that I could be so easily defeated? Well, my sick and twisted parents, behold your creation! And I even had the _decency_ to come back _improved_. Ah yes, I have separated from the darling Celena Schezar. I am fully the monster you made."

"Dilandau…Albatou?"

"You're alive?"

"How did he know?"

"How could he not?"

The Madoushi had finally found their voices, and little blurbs of meaningless babble floated through the room. Dilandau locked his eyes on the bald man and winked.

"Sweet Mother of Gaea!" one man said, realizing Dilandau's intentions.

"Yes," Dilandau finally said, his tone as lethal as Death itself, "Sweet Mother of Gaea is right! I have returned to my creators, now it's time to return to yours!"

Dilandau then charged forward and flung himself into the sea of black leather. The sorcerers frantically scattered, grabbing their ceremonial swords and daggers as the slower ones were cut down by Dilandau's vengeful blade. Van was nowhere to be seen, but his work showed through clearly; all the doors were locked. 

"Sound the alarms!" cried one man. Dilandau twirled, sending two of the braver men who actually _attempted _to fight flying through the air, both with fatal wounds. He walked calmly over to the screaming sorcerer.

"Too late," he said, then relieved the man of his head. Decapitation was so boring…_Actually, _Dilandau thought, striking down another man, _this entire thing is rather boring._ Which was true (for Dilandau). There was no one to fight that had his caliber. Still, the relief he felt was immense.

Before too long, Dilandau had killed almost every single man. All that remained were the troublesome ones and Zlain, the bald one with glasses. They lurked in the cluttered test tubes and vials that had been shoved aside for the nonexistent meeting. He relaxed. 

"All right, even I can have a little mercy," Dilandau said, leaning on his sword, pretending not to see the hiding sorcerers. "If all of you turn over Zlain, I will spare your lives. Simply surrender and hand over everyone's favorite bespectacled fuckhead, and life is good."

Immediately, the five remaining men stood up, two had hold of the balding pig. Dilandau grinned as the sorcerers stepped up to him.

"You made me," he said softly, "You of all people should know that I show no mercy." He then cut them all down as they tried to flee. Only one blocked his blows, and he lasted a good .03 seconds.

Zlain remained untouched. He rose before Dilandau, a huge and intimidating figure of black leather. At least to most people he was. Dilandau had had a rather large and supposedly intimidating ex-Madoushi commander for a good part of his life, so he wasn't too worried. Then again, Folken was _nothing_ compared to this immoral bastard.

"So you've returned to me," Zlain said in his horrid, snake-like voice. He had barely finished his words when Dilandau's fist flew out and connected with his jaw. 

"I've returned to torture you, you sick sonofabitch," Dilandau said.

"Dilandau!" came Van's voice. "My god!"

__

So, Van has come to check out the carnage. Are you to be my angel of death?

Dilandau grinned. "Over here, Pigeon. We've got a pig to tie down."

Zlain rubbed his jaw and looked at Van with wide eyes. "You wouldn't…"

"There's nothing I won't do. I'm not drugged, nor am I bound," Dilandau said, acid dripping. He stuck his sword to Zlain's neck. "Let's go."

"Where, your room or mine?" Zlain said. Dilandau increased the pressure on his blade, cutting the throat of the sorcerer slightly so that blood ran down his chest.

"I've never been a patient person Zlain, don't push it," Dilandau said. Van stepped up beside him.

"What's going on?" he asked. Dilandau trembled with his power. 

"This is Zlain. We have a little chat in store for us," he replied. Dilandau reached up and hit the side of the man's head, making him fall down to his knees in a daze. He reached down and grabbed Zlain's collar and, with Van's help, dragged the man out the door, down the hall, and into a room that almost made Dilandau fall to _his_ knees.

"Gods," Van breathed.

"Welcome to my delivery room," Dilandau whispered. In the center of the room was an operating table with restraints for the feet, hands and torso. "Let's strap this bastard in." 

Together Van and Dilandau lifted the dazed Zlain onto the table. As Dilandau _expertly_ strapped the sorcerer in, he saw the wholly disgusted expression on Van's face. 

"Why don't you go and keep watch outside," Dilandau said. Van looked up in alarm, and Dilandau grinned. "No one has to watch over me. They never have, they never will."

"I beg to differ," Van said.

"I will do this alone," Dilandau replied. Van nodded and left swiftly. _So accommodating, that boy._

"Please, I—" Zlain began. Dilandau cuffed him over the head.

"I didn't tell you to speak," he said. Slowly he circled the table, tapping his bloodied sword on the floor. "Turnabout is fair play. Are you comfortable? Aren't those straps nice? They make the victim, I mean, the 'patient' totally vulnerable and helpless. But you know that, don't you?"

Dilandau stopped at the base of the table. He pulled the boots off of the sorcerer. The stench of foot odor rose through the air. "_Don't_ _you_?" With a flick of his wrist, he sliced a deep cut through the top of the foot.

Zlain moaned. "Now, I know you're only capable of extreme rage, Dilandau, but—"

"What do you mean, I'm only capable of extreme rage?" Dilandau cut in, his voice high with anger. 

"You're only capable of extreme emotions. We gave you permanent chemical imbalances and a higher amount of adrenaline," Zlain explained. Dilandau stopped his pacing and crouched on a chair, an alabaster gargoyle. "Think about it, you only feel the most extreme of any emotion. You feel extreme anger and hatred. You have an extreme need to be loved by someone, you have an extreme dependency."

"I depend on no one!" Dilandau said. He sliced the other foot, taking a few toes with it. Zlain whimpered.

"You are susceptible to extreme fear, sadness, happiness, even love. That's why you had to have such perfect training to beat down those emotions. You are epitome of extreme," Zlain said. He was trying to buy his life by telling Dilandau about his.

"What in the hell possessed you to do that? You simply told me how I could feel?" Dilandau hissed. He refused to come down from his perch atop the chair.

"It was for your own good. It made you a better soldier," Zlain said. A faint glimmer of hope was in his words.

"Fuck that. It was to make yourselves feel more powerful. Tell me Zlain, did you feel like a god then? When you made me? Or was it when you broke me?" Dilandau asked poisonously. 

"We felt like your parents. You were the most successful of all our children," Zlain said with false compassion.

"You raped your child! What kind of sick mother does that?" Dilandau screamed. Now he jumped off his chair, his sword pressed to Zlain's neck. "How in the hell does that help your 'beautiful creation?'"

His cry alerted Van, who came running in the room. "Are you alright?" he asked. 

"I'm fine! I'm perfectly fine! I can fight back now, Zlain, and you'll never, _ever_ be able to get at me again. I have corrected all the mistakes you bastards have made. All the damage you caused will be undone, you bald fuckhead," Dilandau ranted. He raised his sword.

"Don't, you've done enough," Van interrupted. Dilandau turned to him. 

"I will never have done enough! Zlain," Dilandau thrust his face in his captive's, "all you've ever done is made me feel _extreme_ pain. Paybacks are a bitch."

With that, Dilandau slammed the tip of his sword through the man's throat. Zlain gagged, and his eyes grew wide. 

"Die, you bastard. Go and wait for me in hell!" Dilandau yelled furiously. He wrenched the blade from Zlain's throat and began stabbing ferociously at the dying sorcerer. The relief, the freedom he was supposed to feel with this liberation wasn't coming.

"Stop!" Van yelled. He grabbed Dilandau from behind, stopping him in mid-swing. He shook the albino's arm violently, causing him to drop the blade. "He's gone!"

"Let me go! You don't understand, you'll never understand! With him this nightmare dies!" Dilandau screamed. He burst from Van's grasp and began pummeling the body with his bare fists. "Fuck you, you sick leech."

"Calm down! We have got to get out of here!" Van said. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Dilandau. "Gods, what in the hell is wrong with you?"

Dilandau strained against Van, but it was to no avail. "This monster…this is the true monster," he said, trying to make the Fanelian boy understand. Then he screamed in utter frustration, and that's when the damn broke, and tears began flowing down his cheeks. He didn't even feel them. 

Van exasperatedly scooped up Dilandau's legs, and with much effort, fled from the capitol of the Zaibach Empire. Halfway through his flight, Dilandau passed out from exhaustion, leaving Van with a fearful heart and a confused mind.

~*~

Dilandau had lost all of his senses. He could feel the cold metal beneath him, and the hard, biting leather of the restraints. But, for the moment, he knew what neither was. 

He looked around, trying to place the room. However, his vision was blurry and all he could make out was the bright, shining light above him. Other than that he was alone in the darkness.

Alone.

"Chesta?" he whispered feebly, his tongue rolling around in his mouth like a piece of meat. "Gatti?"

He almost said Migel, but then he remembered that _that_ particular soldier was dead.

And then he remembered that the rest of his Dragonslayers were as well. So Dilandau dealt with it accordingly.

His screams rang out in the cold room like those of a dying animal.

Somewhere, in-between one cry and the next, he heard the refreshing _whoosh_ of the door. At first Dilandau thought it was a breeze, that he was on a battlefield, but his befuddled mind finally placed the sound. He listened to the footsteps.

"Chesta? Gatti? Dalet?" He mumbled habitually. A dark, creaking figure blocked half of his light. He tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes, but something was holding it down. The thing looked like the Strategos in his robes.

"Folken, they're dead," Dilandau said miserably. His voice was no more then a whisper.

The thing spoke. "I'm not Folken. My name is Zlain." 

Dilandau could not comprehend that. Of course it was Folken, who else marched around in those stupid black capes? Who would be by his side on the _Vione_ after losing such a promising bunch of young soldiers?

"You're on the floating fortress _Korishi_ of the Madoushi," the thing continued. Dilandau shut his eyes. Seeing and hearing things at the same time was an overload to him. He felt so tired.

"I can't move," Dilandau managed to say. It was beginning to become hard to speak as well. He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"That's okay," said the man, who Dilandau was beginning to recognize as Zlain. He pressed his hand to the boy's fevered forehead. "You are a pretty thing, aren't you?"

Dilandau wished to be rid of the man's touch. "Stop that," he ordered. In his drugged state, he connected the feeling of human hands with needles and pain. 

Zlain's glasses caught the light and the radiance flashed through even Dilandau's closed eyelids. Then the darkness grew even darker, and the boy opened his eyes, searching for understanding.

Floating right above his head was the blurred image of the thing's face. Dilandau could make out small eyes, a rather large nose, and circular glasses. The light backlit the pale monstrosity of Zlain's features, and he looked utterly terrifying. Dilandau began to hyperventilate, his heart ill at ease. 

"Hush, my beautiful creation, it's all right," he heard Zlain whisper. Dilandau wanted to cry out that it _wasn't _all right, it wasn't right at all, but there was something in his mouth. It was wet and sticky, and it rolled around across his teeth and tongue like a dying snake. Dilandau, not knowing what else to do, bit down on it.

"YAH!" yelled the black-robed man. Dilandau cowered, expecting a barrage of needles and knives any minute. "You bit my tongue!" 

Tongue? Dilandau fought to understand what a tongue was. Then it came to him. Zlain's tongue had just been in his mouth?

And that's when his situation began to become clear to him. 

"Help me!" Dilandau screamed, utterly terrified for the first time in his life. "Chesta, Gatti, help me!" He yearned to call another name, the name of a man that could help him, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. "Viole, Dalet, don't leave me here with him!" 

Alas, dead men cannot help the living.

"Oh, my pretty thing, my beautiful creation, don't scream. No one can hear you anyway, not from this room. You're all alone, completely alone," Zlain said. 

"Gods," Dilandau said, ceasing his screaming. He began to shake uncontrollably, and he pulled weakly against his restraints. Tears leaked from his ruby eyes, and Zlain filthily kissed them away. 

And then he felt the foreign hands on his shoulders, his chest, and his stomach. They raced along every outline of his lithe muscles; felt the trembling ivory skin. To Dilandau, this hurt more then any of the needles, scalpels, and chemicals put together.

"So smooth, this skin. It truly is superb," whispered Zlain between his kisses. Dilandau wrenched his head from side to side, trying to escape the snake's lips and bleeding tongue. Another name occurred to Dilandau's sluggish brain.

"Folken! You're never around when I need you!" Dilandau cried, one of his more coherent screams. Zlain's hands slid underneath the waistband of Dilandau's pants, and the albino screamed louder then he thought was humanly possible. What the hell was this about?

"Hush. That barbaric Fanelian will be coming shortly to collect you, damn it all," Zlain said, his hands sliding through the thin fabric of Dilandau's boxers, "So we'll make this short. I won't be able to have my usual fun, but you will. I'll even let you remember this meeting of ours, since I haven't let you recall the other two."

Dilandau shut his eyes as he felt Zlain's cold hand curl around his length. No one in his life had ever, _ever_ touched him this way. As the fingers slid down to cup his balls, he shuddered violently. 

"Go away," he said weakly. He tried to rise, but found it impossible. What was holding him down?

Zlain bent over him, his fingers moving rapidly up and down Dilandau's cock until it was hard and erect as a soldier. "Imagine, I have Dilandau Albatou by the balls."

All Dilandau could manage was a whimper. He ground his teeth together, feeling his drugged state slipping and his coherency becoming more and more apparent. He prayed for his previous weakened confusion. As a strange pressure began to build in his loins, shame and fear washed over him. Sweat broke out across his body.

"No, stop!" he whispered, his breaths coming in gasps as Zlain's able fingers continued their work. Unable to stop himself, he rose and fell with the motion of Zlain's hands. Suddenly a mind-blowing sensation overcame him and his hips jerked violently. Dilandau half-heard himself moan.

"Good boy," Zlain said, whispering in Dilandau's ear as the boy came into his hands. Dilandau collapsed against the metal table, scared of what was going to happen next, but knowing that it wasn't good. Zlain raised his sticky hand to his face and began licking his fingers one by one.

Dilandau shut his eyes and began to cry; though this time he was silent. He cried for how easily he had been defeated. 

"You taste superb, child," Zlain said. Dilandau felt kisses once again on his neck. He imagined a huge black bat swooping in and devouring him whole. He couldn't take anymore of this. He tilted his head and bit his teeth deep into the flesh of Zlain's ear. The sorcerer wrenched away, screaming this time instead of Dilandau.

"Don't touch me!" Dilandau yelled at the pained Madoushi. Zlain clasped a hand to his ear, holding the bleeding cartilage. Blood ran from Dilandau's lips and he spat out of the little piece of earlobe he'd managed to bite off. 

"You are quite a terror," Zlain said. "I'll make you pay for that, my beautiful creation." Dilandau saw the monster's hands going once again to his nether regions and he screamed louder then he ever had in his entire life. He couldn't take it again. 

"So this is where Dilandau is," came a deep and resonating voice. Zlain stood up as straight as a post. Dilandau closed his eyes against the sudden shine of light from the doorway. 

"Ah…Folken! Yes, this is where we have been keeping him," Zlain stammered, bringing his cloak up to his ears to hide the wound. Dilandau opened his eyes, disregarding the pain of the light.

"Folken! Get me out of here!" he screamed to the tall, pale man. Folken looked stunned. 

"Why is he still tied down? I was informed that he was prepared to leave today. I see that he is not," the Strategos said. Zlain blubbered about for an explanation. Folken's patience thinned. "Untie him at once."

"Yes Strategos," said the sorcerer. Zlain bent down and began undoing the bonds that held Dilandau. Upon seeing the man's face so close to his again, feeling his hands as he undid the leather fastenings, Dilandau flinched and trembled violently.

"Get away from me! Don't touch me!" Dilandau screamed, straining to be as far away from the bald man as he could. Zlain undid the last bond across his torso, and Dilandau sprung up from the table like lightening. The drugs were still coursing through his system, and he collapsed as soon as feet hit the floor. Folken, to his credit, reached out and caught Dilandau as he fell. However, Dilandau would rather die then be touched by anyone else at the moment, and fought furiously—vainly—to get out of Folken's grasp. 

Zlain came forward. "We could keep him a little longer until he calmed down."

"Folken! Don't you dare let him come any closer! Stay away, you bastard!" Dilandau screamed, ceasing his struggling against Folken, but rather pressing himself against the Strategos' dark cloak. His head spun and if it hadn't been for Folken's iron (literally) grip on his shoulder, Dilandau would probably have fallen to the ground. 

"Zlain please, keep your distance. It's obviously disconcerting to him," Folken said, his brows knitted. Dilandau flailed around some more, mumbling incoherently about his terror. Folken sighed and unsheathed the needle in his artificial forefinger. Quickly he injected the captain with a heavy sedative. After a few seconds, Dilandau became still and slumped to the ground. His hold on Folken's cloak, however, still remained.

Zlain's face was furious. "What did you do? Do you have any idea what kind of reaction that might have with the chemicals that are still coursing through his system?"

Folken's face remained impassive.

"I don't know what exactly transpired in here, but if I ever hear of Dilandau being _this_ irate and upset in your care, then I will stop this demonic science of yours in a heartbeat. This boy may have been manufactured to be a killer, but he's still a human boy, and he shall be treated as such," Folken said. He bent over and picked the limp Dilandau up in his arms. "I will deliver him to his new post myself. I suggest you leave immediately."

The shorter man opened his mouth to protest.

"Zlain, don't push it," Folken warned bluntly. A severe expression painted his features. 

Zlain's mouth shut at once and the balding man bowed. Zlain then walked grudgingly out the door. Folken turned and followed him out of the room, on his way to deliver Dilandau to another hell.

~*~ 

After fleeing from the Zaibach capital, Van had made his way back to the camping ground Dilandau and him had occupied for the past couple of days. Occasionally he was forced to stop and retch on the side of the road, thoroughly disgusted with Dilandau's Gorefest and his taking part in it. He had gone against everything he believed in.

Upon his return, he had wrapped Dilandau in a blanket and set him on the ground. Then Van had waited patiently until sundown for the boy to wake up. He had cleaned camp up twice, hunted down some of the forest's fowl and small animals for later meals, and had rubbed down his horse until it shown brighter then the sun itself. Van didn't want to think about the morning. He had been extremely frightened by Dilandau's actions. He had never seen the soldier shed tears and he had _never_ heard him scream so desperately. Van had never seen anyone hold in so much pain.

All the while, Dilandau remained curled in a ball, occasionally moaning in his slumber. His moans were the most sorrowful and haunting sound Van had ever heard in his life.

As the hours dragged on, Van finally built a fire and fell asleep himself. He positioned himself a few feet away from Dilandau, assuming a position where he would be alerted if anyone from Zaibach decided to come after them to avenge the slain Madoushi. Van doubted it; General Adelphos was probably pleased as punch from being released from the rule of the sorcerers.

At exactly 1:37 a.m. (though neither of them would ever know what time it was), Van awakened to Dilandau's screaming. 

"Chicken toes!" he exclaimed confusedly, sitting up (hey, it was a really _weird_ dream). He heard another scream and immediately grabbed his sword, thinking that some fierce forest creature was attacking the camp. Van ran to Dilandau's side. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut, but his body flinched as Van neared, as if he could see him coming. The screams continued.

"Dilandau!" Van shouted, trying to shout over the albino's cries, "Wake up! Dilandau!" This was to no avail, so Van bent down and shook the boy roughly.

"Don't touch me!" Dilandau cried. His garnet eyes flew open and he backed up frenziedly, twisting in the folds of his blanket. "Don't come near me!"

Van froze, trying to judge the boy's demeanor. "Dilandau, you were having a nightmare."

"Why can't you just die?!" Dilandau screamed, jumping up from his blanket. In his hand was a dagger.

__

No, not more of this shit.

Dilandau charged. Van ducked and sent the soldier flying over his back. Dilandau rolled and stood up again, his eyes full of desperation. Van turned to face him, but Dilandau plowed right into him, knocking him to the ground. He felt the cool blade of the dagger press against his throat. His vision was filled with Dilandau's ruby-red gaze.

"Madoushi bastard," the pale boy whispered. Realization hit Van like a ton of bricks.

"Dilandau! It's me, Van!" he yelled. Dilandau blinked.

"Pigeon?" he whispered. The grip he had on Van slipped.

Van nodded (as well as he could without slitting his throat). "Pigeon."

"Oops," Dilandau whispered. He rose, leaving a very stunned Fanelian king on the ground. He brought his dagger to his eye level and looked at it in total wonder. Van jumped up and gently took it from him. He flung the blade far into the forest. Dilandau watched it sail through the air, breathing in ragged gasps.

"What is wrong?" Van asked, rubbing his own neck with one hand and placing the other on Dilandau's shoulder.

"Stop that!" Dilandau shouted, wrenching away fiercely from Van's touch. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked at the dark-haired boy with soft, frightened eyes. "He's dead, isn't he?"

__

He must mean Zlain.

"Yes. You killed him," Van said. _And about twenty others._

"So he's dead," Dilandau whispered.

"That's usually how it works," Van replied with a small grin.

"It's not funny!" Dilandau screamed. He shoved Van fiercely. "It's not funny at all!" He sank down to his knees, clutching his sides. "He's dead. He's dead, he's dead, he's dead!" He chanted softly to himself.

Van stumbled backwards, then righted himself again. He carefully, _carefully_ inched his way to Dilandau, and then sat down beside him.

"Dilandau, calm down. Tell me what's wrong," Van said. He ached to help the younger boy. A terrified Dilandau is a terrible sight. He thought of reaching out to him, but gauging by Dilandau's response last time, he decided against it.

"This is a nightmare," Dilandau whispered. 

"No it's not. You said that with Zlain the nightmare died," Van said, recalling Dilandau's wild outburst, his complete hatred towards the man. Now, looking at the reaction Dilandau was having currently, a realization dawned on him. "What did he _do_ to you?" Van whispered darkly, the thought of Dilandau being beaten as a small child flashing through his mind. 

Dilandau laid his head down on his bent knees, clutching the sides of his legs ferociously. For a moment there was complete silence; Dilandau was trying to decide on what to do. Finally he spoke, "I…I was drugged for the most part when I underwent Fate Alterations."

"Do you remember any—"

"I'm going to tell you my story. Shut up and feel privileged," Dilandau said, talking into his shaking thighs. Van nodded. "I'll start over. When I was five, I had just come through the first successful Fate Alteration, and Celena Schezar was nonexistent. The sorcerer's told me that my mother hadn't wanted me, and she had turned me over to their care. They explained that I didn't remember any of my previous life because I had become uncontrollable when she had left, and I had suffered a blow to the head by running into a wall. Isn't that believable? Me, ramming myself into a wall until I rendered myself unconscious?"

Van could believe it, but he didn't say anything.

Dilandau continued. "Zlain was one of the main sorcerers who took care of me during my six years of training. He obviously taught me nothing about warfare, that was done by specialized masters, but he was in charge of all the experimentation that was forced upon me. I don't remember any of the tests they put me through. Wait…" Dilandau paused. "…I do remember the pain."

Van remained silent, while Dilandau took a few deep breaths.

"But obviously something wasn't done right, for I reverted back to Celena after the deaths of my Dragonslayers. Zlain was in charge of 'fixing me.' After the Fate Alterations, he…"

Dilandau stopped. Even though his face was hid in his knees, Van could picture the tears that were running down his face. Van scooted closer, but Dilandau held out an arm. 

"Don't come near me. Just stay there." He put down his hand. "The last night I was there, he…he raped me. And he told me of the other times he'd done so; I had just been drugged so I couldn't remember. I was chained to that horrid table, and he raped me." Dilandau stopped talking and his only his sobs could be heard. Slowly he crumpled like a broken thing, falling onto his side with his back towards Van. "All alone," he whispered. "Completely and utterly alone."

Van sat on the ground, his body numb. What Dilandau just said had rocked his more innocent take on the world. He had never, ever heard of someone being violated like that. It was no wonder to him now why Dilandau had so many problems.

"Did you tell anyone what he had done to you?" Van whispered. 

"Oh yes, I would love to run around telling people that I, the magnificent Dilandau Albatou, had been raped by a Madoushi pedophile," Dilandau spat. "Though, I do believe your brother knew. At least, he knew something bad had happened. Folken, for all of his cautious and weak notions, _was_ a genius. But he couldn't help me. He worked to change the future and could not undo the past."

Van winced and Dilandau once again succumbed to a fresh onslaught of tears, though he did so quietly. Van thought for a moment, then stood up and walked around Dilandau. He dropped to the ground and lay on his side, facing the silver-haired boy. Dilandau's face was wet and glistening against the dark nighttime grass.

"I, like my brother, cannot undo the past," Van said. "I look to the future as he did. I want to make a bright future for all of Gaea. But right now, all I want to do is make your _present _and _future_ all right."

Dilandau closed his eyes and jewel-like tears ran down his face. "Oh god, Van. It hurts. It hurts so much," he whispered. Tentatively Van reached out and brushed a tear from Dilandau's face. The albino didn't pull away. Van sat up and gently pulled Dilandau into his lap, cradling the soldier like a mother would her child. He rocked back and forth, remembering how his _own_ mother used to do when he had wept.

"Shh, Dilandau. It's okay, I'm right here," Van said as Dilandau sobbed and clutched his shirt fiercely with one hand. "That man can never hurt you again. Even if he were alive, I would never let him near you. You're not alone anymore."

And so Dilandau sobbed the tears of ten years of pain away, taking comfort in Van's safe arms and soft words. They stayed that way for the rest of the night, until both fell asleep just as Gaea awakened to start a new day.

~*~


	9. Gretchen

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Nine: Lemonade, Anyone?

****

A/N: Today is August 26, 2001, and I haven't posted a damn thing yet. It's Chapter Nine and the only person who's reviewed this tale is my dear Amanda. And if your reactions to Chapter Eight are similar to hers, then boy am I in trouble! Oh and yeah, this is where I try to take the plunge. 

~*~

Dilandau slowly opened his eyes, awakening from a blissfully dreamless sleep. His eyes felt funny to him, hot and sore like an overworked muscle. He didn't know it, but Dilandau was experiencing the wonderful puffy-eyed feeling that people are rewarded with after they have been crying for a long period of time. This was a new sensation; he had never cried openly or for so long a duration, except when he had been taken advantage of originally.

For a long time, he had tried to simply forget about what Zlain had done to him. And, for the most part he had succeeded. He never let it get in the way of his work. He was flawless, up until the time Celena began popping up again. Then he had lost it. However, he never allowed anyone to touch him. Human touch seemed to trigger the memories of the horrid night, and Dilandau couldn't, and wouldn't deal with his painful past. Of course (when he wasn't battling the Schezar girl or involved in warfare) he plotted the murder of the Madoushi and torturing (and eventual death) of Zlain. Now that the actual deed was done, he realized that he never really got around to torturing the bastard. That was all right, Zlain was dead, and that's all that mattered in the end.

Dilandau sighed and closed his eyes again. Gently he nuzzled the crook of Van's throat, taking comfort from the boy-king's heat. Van hadn't been able to fall asleep in a sitting position, so he'd simply fallen onto his back with his arms still around Dilandau. The red-eyed boy was still firmly attached to Van's shirt with his hands, but he lay to the side of him, resting his head on Van's shoulder. It was the first time Dilandau had actually been held or touched without feeling any discomfort whatsoever. There was no fear in his chest, just a calm peace that he had never experienced before. Instead of Van's touch making him anxious, he felt safe for the first time in his life.

"Thank you, Pigeon," Dilandau whispered softly to Van's slumbering ear. He kissed him lightly on the throat. He felt _so_ tired.

Van breathed in deeply at Dilandau's voice. "Amee hime," he said. Dilandau translated that to a sleepy "any time" and smiled.

"Are you awake?" Dilandau whispered softly, his breath tickling Van's ear. The dark-haired boy turned in towards Dilandau, lying on his side.

"No," he replied. Van's eyes opened and he kissed the tip of Dilandau's nose. For the first time in his life, Dilandau didn't flinch.

He actually smiled. "I find that your answer lacks conviction."

"Sorry 'bout that," Van said, his words sounding clearer. He traced his hand along Dilandau's hair. "How are you doing?"

"I feel like all I do anymore is sleep," Dilandau said truthfully. "And when I'm not doing that, I'm killing things." 

Van smiled and ran his fingers through Dilandau's hair some more. "That _is_ all you do."

"Maybe I should get a hobby. Guimel used to collect stamps," Dilandau said, marveling at how good it felt to sit—lie—down and talk about nonsense.

"For some reason I don't see you as a stamp collector," Van replied. 

"Neither do I," Dilandau admitted. He gave Van one of his classic smirks. "Maybe I'll take up bird watching. I have a certain feathered individual in mind."

"I'm not a bird," Van complained. 

"Nope, you're a pigeon. My pigeon," Dilandau said, closing his eyes once more.

Van kissed Dilandau's forehead. "Goofball."

"Birdboy," the soldier replied.

"Pyroboy."

"Featherbrain."

"Smartass."

"And a good one at that." Van laughed.

"So," he said, his hand once again returning to Dilandau's hair, "What are we going to do now?"

Dilandau opened his eyes. "I don't know. Right now, I just want to stay here, just like we are now." He snuggled as close as he could get to Van, feeling the delicious warmth of the Fanelian boy.

For a blissful moment, nothing was said, only felt. Then:

"I have to get back to Fanelia," Van whispered softly. Dilandau tensed. "Why don't you come with me?"

"You know I can't," Dilandau replied bluntly, "As you said earlier, every single country wants me. And I doubt your people would want the man who burned down their kingdom in their midst." 

"I could pardon you. Say that I'm doing it to show Fanelia's peaceable disposition or something like that," Van said thoughtfully. "I _am_ king after all."

"They'll want revenge. _You_ wanted revenge," Dilandau pointed out. 

"It was revenge enough that the Zaibach Empire was crushed. Don't worry, I can make it work," Van argued. "I want you to come with me. And I think you should come with me. You're not in this alone."

"And what if the other countries come after me? Am I supposed to be granted asylum? I am the most wanted person on the planet. You'd be risking too much," Dilandau replied.

"When did you begin to worry about what happened to _me_?" Van asked softly.

"When you saved me from jumping to my death, I think," Dilandau said, closing his eyes in thought.

"That was _not_ one of your shining moments," Van said.

"Who asked you?" Dilandau retorted. 

"Dilandau, come with me," Van whispered, returning to the matter at hand. Dilandau thought for a moment, then opened his eyes and raised his head to meet Van's gaze.

"Alright," he replied.

"Thank you. Dilandau…" Van trailed off. He leaned in close to Dilandau, his eyes asking the question that he wasn't able to put into words. Dilandau blinked once, just once, closed his eyes, and then leaned forward to meet Van's lips. The boy-king's eyes closed, and Dilandau felt the Van's hands press against his back, pulling him closer into the kiss. He complied wonderfully and rolled onto his back, letting Van follow, kissing his mouth, chin, and neck.

And this time, he certainly wasn't acting.

In-between kisses, Dilandau cupped the back of Van's head with his hands and looked at his face for a moment. "Van, I…" he trailed off.

Van nodded, then turned and brushed his lips against Dilandau's inner wrist. The albino looked at him with big eyes. Van leaned down and kissed Dilandau sweetly on the mouth, but then broke away and stood up.

"I promise," he began, lending a hand as Dilandau stood, "that I won't do anything you don't want." 

Dilandau let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Thank you Pigeon."

"I think we can reach Fanelia by mid-morning if we start riding tonight," Van said, looking up at the sky. "It's twilight, so that'd require being on the move all night." He turned and looked back to Dilandau with a cute grin on his face. "You up to it?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Dilandau replied, rolling his eyes. He turned and began walking to the grazing horse. Van smiled and grabbed the bridle as the other boy saddled the creature, who was not looking at all pleased about the plan. As Dilandau strapped on his sword, Van jumped onto the back of the animal.

"You want front or back? Either way, I get the reins," Van said. Dilandau waved a hand to Van to scoot back, and then vaulted gracefully in front of him.

"Who says you get the reins?" Dilandau asked, leaning back against Van. 

"As I recall, this _is_ my horse," Van said. He kicked the animal's sides and began moving.

"Then we need to think about getting another horse," Dilandau replied. He turned his head and gently began suckling the Fanelian boy's neck. Van moaned in the back of his throat.

"Actually," Van murmured, trying to manage riding a horse, talking, and being kissed at the same time, "I like it this way."

Dilandau laughed against Van's throat. "Me too, Pigeon. Me too."

~*~

Moaning and groaning morons, that's all they were.

Van had come to the conclusion that the entire country of Fanelia was being run by dimwits. His advisors were dimwits, and he was a dimwit for keeping them on.

The advisors were mostly men from past political families that had had connections with his father. They had started cropping up since the reconstruction of Fanelia had began, much to Van's annoyance. Without Balgus or the other deceased top generals running around, they had finally strapped on some balls and decided to "aide" their king. Van had let them "council" (a.k.a. "bitch endlessly at him") out of respect to his father.

Now, as the advisors were crowded around him, yelling their displeasure of Van's public statement regarding Dilandau (which went well, he thought), Van was about ready to kill them all. His father couldn't have possibly _liked_ these people, could he? Why were they upset with Van for showing that he was a _fair_ and _kindhearted_ king by allowing Dilandau to reside in Fanelia? Van had absolved Dilandau of his war crimes (towards Fanelia, at least) to show the country's new attitude towards peace. Van had said that if Fanelia still harbored hatred towards the ex-Zaibach commander, that the hatred would spread around the world and continue the faint echoing of the bloody Great War. Fanelia certainly wouldn't want to be blamed for that.

And besides—_wink-wink, nudge-nudge_—Dilandau could help rebuild the shattered Fanelian Army.

"You are trying to maintain peace, yet you want to build an army with the man who destroyed it in the first place?" asked one advisor. Van didn't even know his name, though he kindly referred to him as Big Ears.

"Dilandau Albatou and peace do _not_ go together!" cried another advisor; this one's name was Crooked Nose.

"Your Majesty, I hate to be blunt, but this won't work," said yet another one…Van actually knew this man's name, but still thought of him first and foremost as Stump Man. Hey, the guy was shorter than him and could easily pass as a small tree.

Van clenched the arms of his throne tightly, head bowed and eyes shut, not hearing a word the men were saying. He waited till the barrage halted, then stood.

"My dear advisors," he said with subtle sarcasm, looking around to the half-dozen men, "I am going to pull rank on this issue and totally disregard all of your opinions."

Van paused while the men's jaws dropped, holding up a hand so as to silence any outbursts that might come forth. Then he continued:

"I _am_ the King of Fanelia. I have lived here all my life and love this country more then anyone could ever imagine. I believe I am doing the right thing. Yes, _I_ _am_ building an army while maintaining a pacifistic rule. Peace will protect this country, but so will an army. I will not see Fanelia burned to the ground because we were without protection in the name of peace! This is _not_ a militia created for conquest, but rather for protection. And think of it…would you rather have Dilandau Albatou as our enemy? I prefer him to be with Fanelia. Let bygones be bygones, gentlemen."

And with that, Van turned and left the room. 

He marched down the hall to the private wing of the castle that housed himself and Merle, but now also was the home to Celena and Dilandau. Van stopped by the closed door of Merle's room, and knocked.

"Who is it?" came a muffled voice. It sounded like the catgirl had been crying.

"Me," Van said in a terribly small voice.

"Then I'm not coming out!" Merle exclaimed. 

Van winced. "You can't live in there forever, Merle."

"I'll come out when he's dead." She was talking about Dilandau.

"That might take awhile," Van said, his tone teasing.

"Women live longer then men. And he's a soldier, so he'll probably die in battle at the ripe old age of twenty. Four years in my room isn't that long."

"He's still fifteen, that's five years. And that's the most illogical thing I've ever heard."

"More logical then Dilandau Albatou."

"Merle, come out."

"No."

"I, Van Fanel, King of all Fanelia, order you to get your fuzzy butt out of that room this very instant!" 

"And I, Merle, Queen of Absolutely Nothing at All, refuse."

"Fine! Have it your way!" Van said, exasperated. He punched the wall to the side of the Merle's door and continued walking down the hallway, fuming. Nothing was going right anymore. The instant he had ridden in with Dilandau two days ago and explained his plans to Merle, she had almost bit through his arm and locked herself in her room, vowing to never leave until Dilandau left. It was becoming quite annoying.

"How did the meeting go?" asked a soft voice from somewhere on his left. Van turned around and saw Celena standing against the wall. Roses had been woven through her golden locks and she held a red bunch in her hands. None of the blooms bore thorns.

"It went pretty well," Van said, turning to face her. "I thought you were with Dilandau."

"I was, but he ran away," Celena said. Van tensed.

"Ran away?"

Celena nodded. "I was telling him that I was going to take him shopping for some new clothes, and his eyes grew _really_ big and he disappeared into the rosebushes. I hope he didn't get cut by the thorns. He took all the thorns off of _my_ roses, but he didn't get to the bushes. Want one?" She held out a newly thornless rose. 

"Yes, thank you," Van said, taking the red flower, trying not to laugh. Celena had discovered Merle's flower gardens and had begun picking almost every blossom in sight. He wondered where Dilandau would have gone too. 

"You're welcome. I'm going to go to Merle's room now, want to come?" Celena asked, sniffing her roses. 

"I was just there, so I think I'll go find our elusive Dilandau," Van said. He smiled even though the thought of Merle's self-imprisonment caused him pain.

"Don't forget to remind him about going shopping!" Celena called, skipping down the hall. 

__

Oh yes, I won't forget that at all. Van chuckled. He tiredly opened the door to his room and all but fell onto his bed. He needed a break. Someone else could be king for the day. No sooner had he closed his eyes, he felt a heavy weight on top of him, and then gentle kisses on his shoulders and the back of his neck.

"Hey there," he whispered, "Heard about your near shopping trip."

"Ah, so you ran into my better half," Dilandau replied. Van rolled over and kissed the pale boy.

"Better half?" he asked. "I like this half."

"Well that's a good thing, or else this would be rather awkward," Dilandau said slyly, leaning in and kissing Van again. 

Van was pleased to find that the other boy was in one of his more passionate moods. Loving Dilandau was like trying to feed a wolf right out of your hand. The creature was shy and hesitant, and most of the time you ended up just throwing the meat to the canine anyway. But sometimes, the wolf would walk up and take the food from your fingers. Dilandau was the same way about affection. If he felt like kissing someone, he did it. If he didn't, he didn't. And sometimes he bit you.

"Merle won't come out of her room," Van complained in-between kisses. He felt really terrible about everything he was putting her through. "What should I do about it? I ordered her to come out, and she wouldn't."

Dilandau looked at him as if Van had just asked to be given a purple turkey. "That's simply, break the door down."

"Why am I not surprised?" Van sighed, shaking his head. With Dilandau, every option was a destructive one. He reached up and ran his fingers through Dilandau's hair. He liked his the silky feel of the silver locks.

"So how'd the meeting go?" Dilandau asked, nibbling on Van's throat. 

"Just dandy. Told all of my advisors off. By the way, you're in charge of the Fanelian Army," Van said tiredly. Dilandau stopped in mid-kiss and sat up.

"What?" he asked darkly. Van mentally kicked himself and sat up as well.

"I want you to be my top general and command the entire army of Fanelia," Van explained. 

"Why?"

"You commanded the Dragonslayers, some of the best soldiers Zaibach had to offer."

"_The_ best. _They_ were the best," Dilandau interrupted, "They were _elite_ soldiers. I did not command _petty_ foot soldiers who are as valuable as lumps of clay."

Van grabbed Dilandau's shoulders. "That's why it has to be you! You won't _have_ petty foot soldiers. Every single man will be just as good as those Dragonslayers of yours were!"

"_You_ managed to beat all fifteen of them. All by yourself. And you almost killed me as well," Dilandau replied softly, looking down at Van's hands.

"Dilandau!" Van said sharply, causing the boy to look at him, "Don't you go doubting yourself! Dilandau Albatou does not do that. _You_ do not, I repeat, _do not_ doubt yourself. I can't command an army. I have absolutely _no_ idea on how military strategies work. That was Folken's area of expertise, as well as yours. You _are_ the self-proclaimed military genius. I am simply the king."

"Oh whoop-dee shit, you're just the king," Dilandau mocked, smirking. Van rolled his eyes.

"Does that mean you'll do it?" Van asked hopefully.

"I handpicked my Dragonslayers. I will pick my army and my officers," Dilandau replied.

Van nodded. "And how is that done?" 

"I will do it in the manner I picked my Dragonslayers," Dilandau said in a tone that conferred that he was not going to elaborate on the matter. Van "hmphed" and lay back down.

"Just don't kill anyone or do anything illegal, alright?" Van asked, putting an arm across his eyes, blotting out the sun. He noticed that he had dropped Celena's rose on his pillow.

"I'll see what I can do," Dilandau replied, his voice sounding distant.

"Dilandau…" Van warned.

"Pigeon, stop worrying! Contrary to popular belief, I _do _know how to conduct myself in an orderly manner!" Dilandau said harshly.

"Killing innocents and burning things to the ground do not fall under orderly conduct!" Van retorted. His arm was snatched away as Dilandau pinned him down fiercely. The pale face loomed close, and those fiery eyes were bright. Van stared back defiantly and held his breath. Suddenly those same eyes dimmed.

"Damn it!" Dilandau yelled. "You make me weak!" He jumped off Van and stormed out the door. 

"Dilandau!" Van scrambled to his feet and ran out the door, just in time to see the door to Dilandau's room slam shut. He heard the sounds of glass breaking. "Open the door!"

Silence.

"I swear to the gods Dilandau, I am _not_ going to be shut out in this hall by the entire country of Fanelia!" Van shouted. "Open the door!"

Still nothing.

"That's it!" Van spat. He rammed into the door with his shoulder, then backed up and slammed into the wood again. As he backed up to run yet another time, the door opened and Dilandau came blazing through. Van stopped in midstep and Dilandau wrapped his arms around the king's waist, hoisting him over his shoulder as he continued walking.

"What in the hell? Put me down!" Van yelled. Dilandau said nothing and pushed open Van's bedroom door once again. He chucked Van onto his bed, kicked the door shut, and then stood as arrogantly as he could (which was pretty damn arrogant) while the king disentangled himself from the sheets.

"You childish maniac!" Van said, leaping off the bed. Now he was the one who was furious. "Don't you dare do that again! I will not be made a fool of!"

"Do _not_ tell me what to do," Dilandau said darkly. 

"If I don't tell you what to do you'll end up getting others and quite possibly yourself killed!" Van yelled back.

"Do you take me for a moron?" Dilandau asked hotly, loosing his calm exterior. "Because I assure you I am not!" 

"I don't take you for a moron! I take you to be impulsive! And unfortunately your impulsiveness is usually lethal!" Van replied.

"Do not tell me what I am and what I am not!" Dilandau said.

"Then tell me what you are," Van said, his tone softening. He didn't understand this frightening creature in front of him, standing with his hands rolled in fists and his face still with rage.

"You know everything there is to know about me. You are the king, you make the decision…or your judgement," Dilandau said, contradicting himself as he often did. 

"You are a sadistic arrogant maniacal bastard," Van said without hesitation. He paused for effect, then continued, "But with that comes your scathing humor, your genius, and your twisted affection. And…you have a nice ass."

Dilandau, who had been trying to decide between stabbing or pummeling Van with his fists, smiled.

"That's all?" he asked, his tone switching from furious to low and seductive. Van had long become acquainted with Dilandau's love for mood swings, and went with it.

"That and I wouldn't want you any other way," Van replied, slowly walk towards the paler boy.

"Ah, flattery will get you everywhere," Dilandau whispered. Van took a step and wrapped his arms around Dilandau's upper back.

"Sounds enticing," he whispered back. His lips brushed against Dilandau's ear, but found their way to meet his mouth. He felt Dilandau's hands run along his back, buttocks, and thighs. He moaned softly.

"You know, we bounce from hate to love and back again more then normal people probably do, don't you think?" Dilandau said, easily tearing Van's shirt to shreds.

"You and I are far from normal. Besides, that's why there's such a thing as making up," Van replied, arching his back slightly as Dilandau's mouth migrated to encircle one of his nipples, mimicking a baby nursing from its mother.

"You taste like almonds," Dilandau said, his mouth traveling up Van's chest.

Van sank to the floor, pulling Dilandau with him. "Is that so?" he replied.

"I never lie, not unless I have too," Dilandau mumbled. Van reached down and pulled the other boy's shirt up over his head. He wanted to see the rare white skin that entranced him so.

"I'm glad you're not wearing that horrid armor of yours," Van said, kissing an alabaster shoulder. "I'd be smooshed."

"I _liked_ that armor," Dilandau replied, giving Van a small nip on his throat. "And 'smooshed' is not a word."

"Then I decree that 'smooshed' be put in the Fanelian dictionary," Van replied, smiling against Dilandau's lips.

"I think you're abusing your power, Pigeon," Dilandau said. "'Smooshed' is a stupid word anyway."

"Why don't we stop talking about the word 'smooshed' and get on to more important things?" Van suggested, kissing Dilandau hungrily.

"It's hard to argue when you're sucking on my tongue," Dilandau replied, though it came out something more like "Eh har hoo ahyoo en yor ahckin al hi hung."

Van broke away and began kissing the wonderful curve of Dilandau's neck. It was as pure as ivory and reminded him of his own snowy wings.

"I think _you_ should be the angel, not me," Van whispered, thinking of the boy's initial reaction to his wings. Absolute wonder had been in those ruby eyes.

"Ha!" Dilandau scoffed. "Perhaps the Angel of Death."

Van pulled back and looked at Dilandau's flushed face and swollen lips. His exquisite silver hair was mussed and his eyebrows were cocked in puzzlement. And those infamous, thickly-lashed garnet eyes seemed to swallow him whole.

"You _are_ a beautiful angel," Van said. 

Dilandau grinned…devilishly. "Well, I _am_ divine."

"And don't forget it, right? Well I—huh?" Van stopped in mid-sentence as Dilandau's hands snaked their way around his waist and shoved his pants down below his knees. Dilandau leaned in and kissed him, his tongue flickering against Van's.

"Hush, Pigeon. Let your angel work," Dilandau whispered enigmatically, his hands skittering down Van's stomach, inching his briefs down. 

"Please tell me this doesn't include viol—" Once again, Van stopped his chatter as Dilandau wrapped a hand around the base of his erection. The guy couldn't actually be _serious_, could he? Van had always thought _he_ would be the one that would break down old barriers and take everything to another level, given Dilandau's past. 

Though, as Dilandau gave him one more kiss on the mouth and then ducked between his thighs to take him in his mouth, it was apparent that this was _exactly_ what Dilandau had in mind. And in a few minutes Van wondered why he had even thought of questioning the soldier's actions

"Gods," he whispered, curling reflexively upwards into a sitting position over the Dilandau, as the muscles in his stomach contracted involuntarily. _Gods_, that was all Van could think to express his thoughts. Gods, this felt so different, so unthinkable, so—_good_. As he felt Dilandau's lips slide along his length, Van's senses heightened as a wonderful pressure began to build in his loins. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he ran his hand through Dilandau's head violently while his hips involuntarily began to thrust up and down. Gods, this was fucking _fantastic._

Biting back a cry, thinking he could stand no more, Van reached his peak. Grabbing a fistful of Dilandau's hair he came, wings and semen spurting forth simultaneously. As the euphoria overtook him, he fell backwards once again; arching his backs as his wings painfully spilt from his shoulder blades. The combination of this beautiful pleasure and agonizing pain was almost more then he could handle.

Breathing heavily, Van heard Dilandau swallow thickly and then the pale boy slid up along Van's chest, propping himself up on his elbows so his face was suspended above the Fanelian boy's.

"So Pigeon, my Golden Almond Boy, how was that?" he asked coyly. 

"Fantastic," Van replied, opening his eyes. He cocked his head to the side. "Your turn?"

Dilandau shook his head, running his hands along Van's wings. "There's no need." 

"Oh," Van said, nodding. He understood Dilandau's hesitation; he wasn't ready yet. Van couldn't blame him. He lifted his head and kissed Dilandau on the mouth.

"Well, I thank you," Van said.

"Hmm…who ever knew that Draconian's sprout wings when they come?" Dilandau said, his fingers still running over the white feathers. "Though, you need to watch these miraculous appendages, Pigeon; you knocked over your end table."

"That's what I get for not dragging you into bed before," Van said. He closed his eyes and retracted his wings, sending a small flurry of feathers in the air. He stood up, pulling Dilandau up with him. "I say we go there now."

"Van…" Dilandau said warningly, taking the sides of Van's pants and slowly pulling them up, dressing him. 

"Nothing to worry about. I just want to be with you," Van reassured, taking the hint. _Baby steps._

"Ah, the privileges that come with ruling the kingdom," Dilandau said, turning and bouncing on the bed, now that he was reassured. 

"Goofball," Van said. He leaped onto the bed and tackled Dilandau in mid-bounce. The albino retaliated by grabbing a pillow and smacking Van over the head with it, which led to a rather violent pillow fight that covered the floor in feathers. Some were Van's, but the majority came from the pillows.

Soon the two boys collapsed, laughing at the childishness of their actions. They lay on their sides, facing one another. Except for the occasional kiss or caress, they simply drank in the wondrous beauty of each other.

It was Dilandau who broke the silence. "Why…why doesn't it bother you that I'm a guy?"

"Why doesn't it bother you?" Van countered, thinking.

"Because I was surrounded by homosexuality on the _Vione_," Dilandau said matter-of-factly, "There was one girl on the _Vione_ when I was there, and nobody would lay a hand on Refina, because she'd probably kill you. She was almost as good as I…too bad she was a woman. Just too darn tiny…and you?"

"I've never really thought about it. I never even considered the fact that you were a guy," Van said truthfully. "Then again, I started loving you when you were a girl."

"Loving?" Dilandau said, his tone for once tentative.

Van stroked Dilandau's chin. "Possibly."

"Would you rather have me still hidden in Celena?" Dilandau asked seriously, taking Van's hand and lightly sucking on his fingertips.

"Definitely not. I like this Angel just the way he is," Van said.

"Pigeon, you're going to ruin my reputation with a nickname like that," Dilandau complained, scooting in a bit closer.

"Oh, and 'Pigeon' sounds so majestic. I'm sure people will look up to a leader named 'King Pigeon,'" Van said, rolling his eyes. He reached out and encircled his arms around Dilandau's waist, pulling him so that their skin touched. Gently he kissed the base of Dilandau's neck and his shoulders.

Dilandau moaned softly. "Hey, you want to—"

"Uh, guys?" said a muffled voice outside the door. Van and Dilandau sprang up from the bed, grabbing clothes (albeit some were ripped) at lightening speed. 

"What is it?" Van asked pleasantly. Dilandau recognized the voice, and calmly walked up behind Van and grabbed his ass playfully. Van gasped and swatted his hand away, not knowing who it was yet.

"It's Celena," Dilandau whispered in the boy-king's ear, licking it provocatively.

"Did you find Dilandau-chan?" Celena asked. "I don't want the market to close before we go!"

Dilandau hugged Van fiercely from behind. "_I'm_. _Not_. _Going_. _Shopping_."

"Yes, he's right here!" Van called. "Come in and get him!"

"Ooh, you're going to _get_ it tonight," Dilandau said, stepping in front of Van as Celena came running into the room. 

"That's what I'm counting on," Van replied smugly. Dilandau scooped up Celena in his arms, causing the blonde girl to shriek. 

"Where are we going, Princess?" Dilandau asked, spinning the girl around.

"Silly, I'm not a princess," Celena giggled. She waved sheepishly to Van. Her eyes literally _glowed_ with happiness.

"Ah, you're not are you?" Dilandau said, faking confusion. Van smiled at the manner in which Dilandau treated the girl.

Celena leaned in close to Dilandau's ear as if she had a secret. "Nope, I'm a queen!" 

Dilandau laughed. "Of course!"

"I think you two better get down to the market before it closes," Van said, ushering them to the door. He really _did_ have to get back to ruling a country. Dilandau nodded and set Celena down on the ground.

"Go get your cloak," Dilandau told Celena, who obediently ran off. He turned to Van, his hands on his hips.

"You are in _so _much trouble," he said. Van smiled and kissed him.

"Good."

~*~

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rainjewel: *wipes brow and stretches* Jeez, those last couple of chapters really took it out of me!

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Wufei: That's because you are weak!

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rainjewel: Oh heck no! If any of you wonderfully delicious Gundam Wing boys are showing up in my Author's Notes, it's going to be either Duo or Trowa, and _certainly_ not you, Wufei! Or perhaps Quatre, but that's only if he's going to laugh like a hyena again.

****

Quatre: Don't make fun of me, it took me _hours _to be able to do that!

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Duo: Yeah, we had so many calls from Animal Rights Activists that we had to shut down the phones. Hey, what's that weird pale guy doing? Is that a flame-thrower?!

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Dilandau: *holding the now-burning Chapters 8 and 9* _rainjewel!_ What in the hell _is_ this?

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rainjewel: Water balloons, where are my water balloons?! *runs*

~*~


	10. Margot

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Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

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This is not a chapter. Due to the fact that a handful of narrow-minded individuals couldn't tell what age they were, censorship and banning are now acceptable here at Fanfiction.net. Being an American, it annoys me greatly that I no longer have the right to publish what I want, but Fanfiction.net also retains the right to publish what _it_ wants and what it does not want. 

Anyway, the chapter that was previously here has been taken down off of this site so BEL can remain on beloved Fanfiction.net with a much safer "R" rating. If you are reading this story and are of 17 years of age or older and are not offended by the _mature_ notion of sex, simply email me at esca_rain@hotmail.com and I will be pleased to send you a copy of this chapter in HTML format. I highly recommend that you take up this offer and not skip a chapter.

Also, if anyone wants this story on their personal web page, I would be more than happy to comply, if you would only email me. I dislike having my work showing up at random places that I've never been to. 

Thank you for all your time and patience. Feedback is always welcome (practically begged for!).

Much Love ~ rainjewel


	11. Rufus Exabeus

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Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

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Chapter Ten: Past, Present, and—Oh Shit.

~*~

Dilandau hummed while he walked to Fanelian Royal Family's shrine. He wasn't a particularly musical individual and usually did not sing, whistle, or play an instrument of any kind. And dancing was _certainly_ _not_ his favorite pastime, though with his natural grace and flexibility he could probably challenge any professional Asturian ballet dancer and win. Remember, Dilandau Albatou always strove to excel in everything, whether he liked it or not.

The tune he was humming had no name, for he simply made it up as he went along. It had no obvious rhythm, no pattern, and certainly no repetition, for that would have been too easy. The song was also neither happy nor sad, nor angered or peaceful; a little melody derived from pure improvisation. Absently Dilandau wondered if it was a tune appropriate for one attending a gravesite. But then again, he had never really bothered with "appropriateness" before, so why start now? 

"Besides," Dilandau whispered, now standing at the foot of the shrine, "We never got along anyway." He turned away, distracted by the great hulking guymelef that sat silent against a great tree. Escaflowne. Slowly he approached the mecha, noting the absence of a flame-thrower, liquid metal weaponry, and a stealth cloak. The thing was ancient, yet it had managed to beat every opponent thrown at it, no matter how advanced his or her tactics and arsenal had been. 

_But Escaflowne, are you as great without the pilot? Or is it the other way around…did _you_ make Van the fantastic warrior he is today?_

He wanted to reach out and touch the ivory guymelef, but he remembered the painful experience he had underwent when he had first tried that. Involuntarily he ran a hand down his scar. That had happened on the very same day. 

"Hey Folken," he said, looking back towards the burial site, "I caught the Dragon for you." He laughed bitterly and walked to the ground where his former commander lay, sitting down at the base of the shrine. Time to talk; to say what had always remained unsaid.

"I brought you flowers," Dilandau began, laying the dark pink blossoms down beside him. "They're bleeding hearts. I thought you would appreciate that." He laughed again, then grew silent once more, thinking. As he looked over the shrine, he noticed bundles of red roses in various stages of decay. "Ah, so Celena's been here. I didn't think she would remember you. After all, she was only a 5-year-old when she met you."

Dilandau lay down on his back. "But I would probably remember the man that delivered me to the _Madoushi._ I bet you never knew that she was the one from whom I was created. I doubt you even knew what they were going to use her for. You were probably quite the naïve thing; thought they were going to take her under their wing just like they had with you. Ha, ha—jokes on you, pal."

"But then again, there was a lot you don't know. I bet you're wondering, Strategos, why your baby brother hasn't annihilated my ass," Dilandau paused and smiled. He felt a sense of peace flowing through him. "Well, that's because he decided that he rather _liked_ it. Yes, dearest Van has decided against trying to kill me and has rather…well, decided instead to try to love me. However, I don't know if anyone can love me."

Dilandau fell silent. He closed his eyes, drinking in the smell of Fanelia's forests and the sound of the far-off marketplace. His thoughts drifted back to a past time when he was the commander of the elite Dragonslayers (all alive and accounted for), Folken was his most despised head officer, and his face was flawless. The comforting nostalgia of those three and a half years soothed him. He had come today to pay respects that he thought he owed, despite the fact that him and Folken had been at each other's throats for most of their time together. And besides that, he had come to ask advice from his Strategos once again. In the past, no matter how much animosity was between the two, Dilandau had always asked Folken for his opinion.

"I am to rebuild the Fanelian Army, Strategos. What do you think of that?" Dilandau began, opening his eyes. Lazily his hand ran across the gritty stone steps. "I see you're as talkative as always…But I came here not to ask you how to build an army, for you should know as well as I that I can and _will_ make the best damn military on the planet. No, I have a letter to read to you, Folken."

With a painful sigh Dilandau sat up. He reached into his shirt pocket and withdrew a letter from it. It was addressed to Van, and the sender was the Zaibach Empire. He had almost laughed, seeing one monarch sending a letter to another. It seemed absurd. Then he had read the note, and his laughter was all but gone.

"It's a letter from Zaibach," Dilandau said. He took the letter out of the envelope but made no attempt to read the parchment. He had it memorized. 

"Adelphos has told Van to hand me over to them for the death of all the Madoushi. If Fanelia hands me over, Zaibach will not attack and Adelphos will dismiss all rumors concerning Van's involvement in the massacre. However, if Fanelia decides to protect me, Zaibach will invade and Van could be captured and executed for crimes that he truly didn't commit. There will be no compromise…Zaibach wants me and nothing else. I'm sure Adelphos has no intention of killing me; I'm to be his puppet. He wants me back to help his skeleton army," Dilandau said in the same old matter-of-fact voice he'd always used with Folken.

He sighed and put the letter back in his pocket. "Zaibach's army is not a good one, but Fanelia doesn't even have an army. At least, not one that could be ready in time to defeat hardened Zaibach soldiers from the Great War. And I'm sure that no country would like to fight to keep a person such as me. Though, isn't ironic that I used to be the most despised person on the planet, hell probably still am, and now I'm more valuable then all the gold and energists in the world."

"But don't worry, Strategos," Dilandau said, slowly standing up. "I will give Van the letter and make my decision soon. I assure you that you won't agree with it…you never did." 

As he began to walk away from the gravesite, Dilandau paused and looked back over his shoulder. After a moment's consideration he turned around fully and bowed before Folken, as he had never done when the man was alive. 

"Folken, I was never fond of your pussy-footed ways to approaching a battle, but I do appreciate everything you did for me. I thank you," Dilandau whispered, daring to speak what he had hardly ever allowed himself to acknowledge. He knew his words were a little too late, but he felt that Folken would understand. Hadn't he always?

And so Dilandau rose and walked away from his commander's grave. He would never return, and he would never look back.

~*~

Stress was not an emotion that Dilandau was accustomed too.

Pressure in battle he could handle. The pressure to do well would forever be with him, ever since he was birthed into the battle arena. It had never fazed him, for he had always conquered. He had an uncanny ability to believe in himself unwaveringly. He held no religious beliefs and had faith only in himself. He could be ordered to bring the entire planet of Gaea to its knees before him, and he would never doubt that it was beyond his power. And then he would have lunch. 

"But it's different now," Dilandau whispered, staring at his bedroom's ceiling. He had the first day of training tomorrow. All of the men in Fanelia, the survivors of his massacre, would turn out tomorrow and be tested by him. They would have to accomplish feats that only_ he_ could do. At least, that's how it was supposed to be.

Now Dilandau wondered if he still had the punch.

"I have been tempered," Dilandau whispered to the ceiling. "I have been broken. I have been tamed. I am…I am _nice_."

How utterly disgusting.

The selection of the Dragonslayers had been ten times easier then this. He had received orders to construct a squadron of fifteen soldiers. Dilandau had decided to recruit boys that were his age, give or take a year or two. If he went to the older ones, then he would have problems with authority at first. Though, no one could ever really tell _him_ off. 

He had found a lot of them in the boot camps. Viole Kharin was the perfect example: he showed promise, yearned for military glory, and was one of the more violent soldiers. Dilandau liked this. Luckily for him the boot camps seemed to be teeming with these bloodthirsty youths. Hell, it almost seemed like some of them were hatched. Perhaps some were. But even though Dilandau had endless soldiers-in-training to choose from, he found some of his best soldiers by chance.

For instance, he had found Guimel Erish in a parsonage he was burning to the ground in the middle of a conquest. The boy had been clothed in altar robes as he had tried to defend his church from Zaibach. Dilandau had beaten him in a few quick strokes, but had recognized the potential and utter loyalty the boy possessed. He had captured him on the spot, and changed him from altar boy to assassin in a few short weeks.

Dalet was discovered in the gutter behind a bar. Folken (such a compassionate fellow) had told Dilandau not to consume too much alcohol at such a young age. Dilandau had promptly told him to shove it (guess where) and spent as much time off the _Vione_ as possible. On one of these excursions, he had found the brown-haired boy and, as cheesy as it sounds, simply thought that he would make a great soldier. He had. Dalet Harliel was one of the best guymelef pilots in the Dragonslayers.

Dilandau had come across Chesta Daliente in the kitchen. He had been a personal servant of some rich family, but had run off to join the army in hopes of better things. "Better things" turned out to be making nutrient-rich gruel that the soldiers downed everyday. Dilandau had been wandering around late one night and had found Chesta practicing in one of the training rooms. After whacking the boy across the head for being so insolent, Dilandau had taken him in. Chesta was one of his favorites. The boy wasn't the best guymelef pilot or swordsman, but he was logical. The little blonde slayer managed to talk Dilandau out of (most) his destructive impulses and restrain him from randomly torching "those incompetent servants."

Gatti Ferdinand was the rich kid. Dilandau admitted that he had promise; a decent swordsman and an even better guymelef pilot. But still, the aristocracy seeped out sometimes. The way he held his silverware like a woman, how he occasionally tried the chivalry card on Refina (who promptly knocked him unconscious). Dilandau made him the second in command of his Dragonslayers because Gatti always wanted to lead people. The aristocracy is forever trying to vie for political power, and the boy would always do whatever he could to gain favor from Dilandau. Fine, let the boy try.

But the most memorable was Refina. The girl had come to him late at night when he was at a bar, returning from a top secret meeting in the capital. After flirting with him annoyingly for a couple of drinks or two, she had led him upstairs to her bedroom. Dilandau had followed, though his intentions were not revolving around sex at all. Her irritating chatter had pissed him off enough that all he wanted to do was kill the wench and satisfy his insatiable bloodlust. He hadn't been on the _Vione_ in days, and Dilandau had "The Itch." However, the minute Refina closed the door, her bubble-headed demeanor immediately vanished. She had pushed herself off the door and flung herself at him. Taken by _complete_ surprise, Dilandau made no move as she plowed into him and knocked him to the ground. The little blonde thing had then pulled his own sword from his hilt and placed it to his throat.

"Give me all your money," she had then ordered in a wonderfully low and sexy voice. 

Dilandau cocked an eyebrow, interested. "Do you have any idea who I am?" 

"A high-ranking officer in the Zaibach military, which is why I've chosen you to rob. Ordinary soldiers don't make much. Judging by your armor, I'd say you do," Refina had said with a knowing smile.

"Intelligent little thing. Here, I'll tell you what," Dilandau paused and whipped out the dagger he had in his boot and held it against Refina's surprised throat. "You tell me your name, and I'll let you join my army."

"Why would I do that?" Refina asked.

"Because if you don't I'll kill you," Dilandau replied smugly. With his other hand he grabbed the blade of his sword and wrenched it to the ground. The sword was razor-sharp, and the leather of his gloves didn't help him much.

"Whatever you say, cutie," Refina had replied. Then she had driven her knee into his crotch. Dilandau gritted his teeth and curled upward, wondering why all the oxygen in the room had suddenly left. Using his strength and his leverage, he heaved himself up off the ground and knocked Refina against a wall, dazing her so that she dropped the sword and relieved Dilandau the worry of having to protect his manhood. 

"Last chance," He said, holding the blade to her neck, pressing just enough to shallowly cut her throat so a thin red line of blood appeared across her jugular. His other hand hung at his side, spilling his own blood all over the floor.

"Refina. My name's Refina Morlan," the girl said, her voice still strong. Dilandau grinned, and _then_ smacked her across the head with the hilt of his dagger, knocking her unconscious.

"Welcome to the Dragonslayers," he said. He then slung her over his back and headed to the _Vione._

Yes, that was quite the experience. Dilandau had never thought that he would ever accept a girl into his Dragonslayers, but Refina was _good._ She was only 5'2", and Dilandau doubted she made a hundred pounds, but she packed a whole lot of punch. She could beat practically any opponent put in front of her (besides him, of course). Her main problem was that she couldn't compete in hand-to-hand combat due to her size. The minute she lost her sword, she was done for.

And finally, there was Migel Lavariel.

Migel was the best present Dilandau had ever received. Folken, actually, had given him to Dilandau. At first he had been wary of the boy…Folken had a habit of bringing in the scum of society, and Dilandau was curious as to why the Strategos would feed another soul to the war's bloody appetite. Migel, Dilandau learned, had been captured from a Fanelian wolf pack. Usually any wolfman or wolfwoman was nearly impossible to catch, and it was highly unusual that the wolves would have taken the boy into their pack in the first place. The tall chestnut-haired boy was an unknown element.

Dilandau had seen to it personally that he train him. Folken told him that Migel had killed off most of the men who had tried to bring him in, and he was probably older then the captain by a year or two. Fine with him—Dilandau liked a challenge. At first Migel was mostly unresponsive to everything around him when he arrived on the _Vione_. He wouldn't answer to Dilandau when the captain had questioned him, and had made no move to defend himself when he was beaten for doing so. Dilandau had then promptly went out in his Alseides unit and captured a couple of wolf-cubs from the pack he was told Migel had belonged too. He had marched into Migel's room with the snarling pups under either arm and had threatened to slit the young wolves' throats if Migel didn't cooperate. Anger and hatred had then risen up in Migel's eyes, and Dilandau knew that he had him. The two had then went directly to a training room and hacked at each other violently until one had triumphed. 

A guess as to who the winner was?

Dilandau was actually surprised at how good Migel was with the sword. He hadn't expected such a wild boy to know how to dance with a blade as exquisitely as Migel did. However, Dilandau knew this waltz better then anyone and relieved the silver-eyed boy of his sword in the beginning of the duel. Migel then resorted to what he did best: wrestling. Fanelians, Dilandau had decided, liked this type of fighting method. As he and Migel rolled around on the cold cement floor, Dilandau kept reminding the boy that this fight was for the lives of the wolf-cubs whenever Migel showed signs of slowing down. Each time he uttered such threats, the older boy renewed his energy and became more ferocious then before. Dilandau was _delighted._

But Dilandau was not the commander of the Dragonslayers because of his good looks. Eventually he tired of the fight and finally pinned Migel so that there was no chance of escape. Then he had told the brunette that he had a choice: he could either swear utter loyalty to the Dragonslayers and the pups would be spared, or death for wolf-cubs and himself.

Migel made his choice. Dilandau gave the cubs to Folken so that they could play with his kitties.

He knew that Migel would resent him for being forced to join the Dragonslayers, but Dilandau also knew he had a knack for squeezing the loyalty out of people. He broke Migel, just like he had broken the other reluctant recruits.

He should have made Migel second in command; the boy could kick Gatti's ass any day. But Migel was the enigma of the Dragonslayers. He didn't socialize with the other boys, and he hardly spoke. Dilandau occasionally wondered if he had a thing going with Refina, but that chick had taken one look at Folken and had never looked at another man again. Dilandau would bet his life that Folken never knew about it either.

"No, that guy wouldn't know what romance was even if it came up and took a bite of his ass," Dilandau laughed to his ceiling, breaking into the present. Same goddamn stressful present.

"Who wouldn't?" asked a voice. Dilandau heard the door slide shut and then Van's footsteps as he approached the bed.

"No one, Pigeon. Just reminiscing," Dilandau said, sitting up. Van leaned against the bedpost.

"About what?"

"My Dragonslayers."

"Oh…what were they like?" Van asked. His eyes shown with the guilt he still felt over their deaths. 

"Loyal incompetent devoted morons," Dilandau replied. "And I suppose I loved every single one of them." He stood up and began pacing. His walk down memory lane had soothed him momentarily, but now he felt his stress more keenly than before. Van followed his moves with his eyes.

"What's wrong Angel?" he asked.

"Fanelia will be completely reconstructed in a few moons, correct?" Dilandau asked, still pacing. 

Van nodded. 

"And there is to be a celebration?" 

Another nod.

"You will have an army by then." Dilandau stopped and walked directly up to Van and then kissed him hungrily on the lips. Then he reached into his breast pocket and withdrew the letter from Zaibach.

"I have a letter for you."

~*~

Three dates.

One fainting episode.

Ten hugs.

Seven kisses.

Hitomi wondered what Van's kisses would taste like. Kevin's tasted oddly like apple pie. 

On the first "date" Hitomi had the majority of her time (once she regained consciousness) repeatedly telling her friends that she was fine, and assuring Amano for the bizillionth time that she was not anemic. They stayed at Amano's house the entire time, watching some movie Hitomi couldn't remember and having wonderful popcorn fights. Hitomi had barely been able to look Kevin in the eye. However, despite their rather…dramatic introduction, Kevin had asked her to go out with him again. Hitomi (after a lot of needling from Yukari) had agreed.

And agreed the next time as well.

Tonight would be the fourth date. The last two dates had been just Kevin and Hitomi, but tonight they were going to rendezvous once again with Yukari and Amano. It would be the happy couple's last outing before Amano left for England.

It also, Yukari had said, was the last day she spent a virgin. Yes, you heard right.

And for some odd reason, that didn't surprise or bother Hitomi. _Be careful_, she had said, _You don't have too,_ she had said; grounded, levelheaded Hitomi said things like that. But in reality Hitomi was glad for her best friend, perhaps even a little jealous. After all, Yukari saw what a good thing she and Amano had and was going to revel in every minute of it…Hitomi had seen the same thing with Van and had done what she'd always done best—run.

But not to worry, _not to worry_! Everything was all right, okie dokie, goin' great, just fan-_fucking_-tastic! Kevin, her darling Kevin was here. It didn't matter to him that Hitomi saw black hair instead of red; brown eyes instead of green. And even though Hitomi swore she sometimes called him "_Van_" it seemed as if Kevin only heard his name.

Gee golly, ain't that just _swell_?

__

No, said levelheaded Hitomi, _that's downright unhealthy._ But Hitomi didn't care as long as it kept the pain at bay. Darling Kevin was the sweetest guy she'd ever met, and she knew that she didn't want him, didn't love him, didn't even _like_ him; but she knew that if Kevin ever wanted to jump in the sack with her it would be just A-Okay. Follow in Yukari's footsteps and just jump on the train.

"Tonight, even," Hitomi said to herself, slipping on a short black dress. Tonight was a big possibility. She slicked on a pouty lipstick and walked downstairs. Her mother and father weren't home tonight, but far away visiting a sick aunt at the hospital. Tonight she could wear, do, and be whatever she wanted.

Hitomi looked at herself in the mirror just before walking outside and saw a jaded, lost, and unhealthy girl and just for a second, one small moment, thought: _I need help._

Then she quickly dismissed the idea and walked through the threshold, becoming falsely merry once again. Darling Kevin (it was never "Kevin," but "Darling Kevin" or just "Darling") was waiting for her on the steps, his hand raised to knock. Hitomi had seen him drive up and had decided to beat him to the punch. 

"Hey sugar, lookin' good," he said good-naturedly. Hitomi smiled at her Fanelian king and kissed him fully on the mouth before even shutting the door. Kevin, a little surprised and probably a tad embarrassed, swatted the door shut while trying to kiss her back. 

As Hitomi pulled away she looked at Kevin with wet eyes and said, "I already miss him terribly." 

"Me too," Kevin said, thinking of Amano. He gently smoothed her hair and then slipped an arm around her waist as they walked to down to where a motorcycle stood. She looked at the bike apprehensively. She knew Kevin had a motorcycle, but he had always picked her up in a car.

"Sorry about the ride, but the car's in the shop. Will this do?" Kevin asked, placing his hand on a handlebar. Levelheaded Hitomi said _Hell no, I'm not riding that death machine._

"Sure," Hitomi said perkily. "Where do I sit?"

Kevin smiled. "Right behind me. All you have to do is hold on tight. Oh, yeah," he paused and grabbed a helmet that had been suspended from the handlebars, "You can wear this. Can't have my girl unprotected."

"Don't you have one?" Hitomi asked. But no, of course not. Van was always brash and never did anything safely or logically. Neither, she realized, did she anymore.

As Kevin hopped on the bike and Hitomi carefully climbed on behind, she noticed that her brother was standing in the front window. Upon his young face was a frown, not the usual immature smile he had when he watched her drive off on other dates. He was worried.

On some forgotten level, that worried Hitomi.

After about ten minutes of riding and 11 attempts to try and talk, Hitomi simply shut her mouth and gave up. One cannot talk very well while blazing through town at some ungodly speed. Kevin _was_ a good driver, however, and was being extra cautious now that he had a passenger on his motorcycle. He was polite and courteous to other people, never ran a red light, and never exceeded the speed limit…squared.

But, it doesn't matter how fast or slow you're going when some moron runs a red light and sideswipes your motorcycle with their car.

Hitomi would realize later that Kevin's helmet saved her life. It did not, however, help save his in the slightest. When the motorcycle was blindsided by some (undoubtedly drunk…those goddamn kids are _always_ drunk nowadays) stranger's minivan, Kevin Littleton was thrown up onto the windshield of the vehicle. His head split wide open, and he became nothing but a large and messy grease spot when the glass broke and millions of fragile daggers skewered him.

Hitomi herself was _not _thrown up onto the windshield. Instead she was tossed to the side like a discarded rag doll. She landed on her stomach, vainly trying to catch herself with her hands. She rolled over once, twice, and then came finally to a stop in front of some car's screeching tires. When Hitomi rolled her last turn she immediately pushed herself off the ground, surprised as hell that her legs weren't broken. Van was hurt, probably fatally, and she had to go and help him. She would go back to the horrid, gray Land of the Dead if need be. 

However, her ragged body could not fathom this illogical idea and she fell to her knees. Screaming his name, she desperately reached out towards her fallen king with skinned, bloody hands, trying to crawl on raw legs. But God would not give her that second chance and Hitomi fell to the ground, unconscious and bleeding.

Though, as a column of light (which every one at that doomed intersection saw but none remembered) slowly descended on the girl's battered frame, it seemed that God did believe in second chances, and perhaps she was going to get hers. 

Perhaps.

~*~

****

rainjewel: I always feel I owe an apology to my reader(s) when I write these short, crappy chapters.

****

Dilandau: Apology to the readers!? What about an apology to the characters?

****

Kevin: No kidding! This was _not_ the role I wanted! 

****

rainjewel: Kev, you wanted to be the ceiling. There isn't a _part_ for the ceiling. 

****

Duo: And damn it Heero, you can't fix a Gundam if you don't have the parts!

****

Heero: But I am Heero Yuy, the guy who can do anything and everything! Including lying in a bed for a month and not having to pee. 

****

rainjewel: Yeah, well kudos to you. Now shut up and go back to staring at yourself in the mirror, perfecting the Yuy Death Glare. 

~*~


	12. Mortimer

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Eleven: It's Been Good, It's Been Bad…Now All That's Left is Ugly

****

A/N: Suddenly it came to me; I haven't recommended the _fantastic_ (damn you Kim) novel Whale Talk to my reader(s) yet! Okay, here's the scoop: you have to read this book. I will not allow you to live if you do not read this book. I _insist_ that you go down to your local library—no, you're local _bookstore_ (for everyone should _own_ this wondrous piece of literature) and get the novel. The title's Whale Talk, and the author is the great Chris Crutcher. And if a bunch of you just groaned and said "aw, not another stupid sports book" you should be shot. This is _not_ a "sports" book and even if it was, Chris Crutcher is _the_ man (sorry Yama). I hate "sports" books but I usually gobble up Mr. Crutcher's novels like popcorn. Anyway, away with you! Go and buy this book! Then come back and read this latest chapter and review.

~*~

Van reached for the parchment. Dilandau resumed pacing.

"A letter?" Van asked, picking up the parchment. "From whom?"

Pace. Pace. Pace. _Don't look at him._

"Zaibach!"

__

Yep my Golden Almond Boy, that's right. I have to go back. 

Van (why in the _hell_ did it take him so long to do everything?) slipped the weathered letter from the envelope and turned it over in his hand. As he opened up and began to read the letter, a bright white light suddenly flashed through the room.

Dilandau, thinking Zaibach had decided on obliterating him rather then recapturing him, dove at Van, knocking him to the floor. With frightened strength he held the boy-king down at the shoulders. There was no way he was going to let him up. He didn't know what was going on, but he had a gut feeling it wasn't good. Not at all.

Then the light vanished—gone, kaput, completely disappeared. 

"Are you alright?" Dilandau asked, almost yelled at Van. Adrenaline surged through him, making it seem like he had an electric cord running through his body. Those fierce, extreme emotions Zlain (May God _fuck_ his soul) had mentioned were running on high.

Van winced at Dilandau's harsh voice. "Yeah," he said slowly. Dilandau nodded and jumped to his feet. Van watched him and blinked once, then twice. Suddenly his eyes widened.

"What?" Dilandau asked, looking from Van to the window. He felt jumpy and his nerves seemed to be picking up the slightest change in the atmosphere.

Van didn't answer at first. Instead he stood up and walked to the window. He leaned out, searching for something he couldn't quite place.

"Pidge?" Dilandau asked, stepping up to look out the window as well. He saw nothing but the downtown of the city and beyond that, the forest.

"I think…no, I _feel_ something," Van said. He looked at Dilandau but didn't see him.

Dilandau noticed this and frowned. "What? I'm lost."

"It's…" Van paused, then clutched a hand to his chest. "Holy shit."

"I'm still lost here," Dilandau replied impatiently. He was not pleased with Van's theatrics. The boy-king still didn't know of the immediate danger he was quite possibly in. Where was that letter?

"Hitomi's here," Van said. He acted like he couldn't believe it.

"Hitomi?" Dilandau felt his heart drop to his toes. Thoughts of Zaibach vanished.

Van nodded, sure of it. "Hitomi's here!"

"How in the world do you know?" Dilandau asked. In truth he knew the answer. No doubt that psychic bitch had made some clairvoyant connection with _his_ Pigeon. And didn't he, Dilandau Albatou, know more about telepathy then anyone else? 

"I can _feel_ her. She's not saying anything right now…that worries me," Van explained. Dilandau had never pushed his talents to the limits of having a conversation with Celena through telepathy; it would undoubtedly scare the girl to death. Van continued his pondering. "Why wouldn't she come directly here?"

Dilandau had a few guesses, but he chose not to voice them. He wanted that girl far away from here.

"Dilandau!" Van said, suddenly fiery, "We have to go and find her! She could be in trouble!"

"Don't be such a brash nitwit," Dilandau scoffed. There was no way in hell he was going to go off and _find_ the girl who could so easily ruin his now-fragile existence.

"I'm not being brash!" Van argued. He was heading for the door. Dilandau felt a rush of…was that fear? He sprang forward and cut Van off.

"And what are we going to do with her once she gets here?" Dilandau asked, poking his finger into Van's chest. "What are _you_ planning on, Pigeon?"

Van pulled the pendant off his head and held it in front of his face. He had never taken it off, and Dilandau had never asked about it. "That doesn't matter. I have to find her. She needs me."

"How can you say that after all she's done to you?" Dilandau contested, eyeing the pendant with pain. 

"Look at what _you_ did to _me_, Dilandau. I'm going," Van said. He was impatient to go out and be a hero.

Dilandau silently dropped his hand and stepped aside, his heart badly bruised. He was awash with feelings of betrayal and sadness. It took more than usual to draw himself together.

"Well then," he said, hiding his pain, "Let's go get her." _And that bitch had better strap on her armor, because this is going to be an all out war._

Van nodded, being his usual less-than-observant self. "Okay."

He charged past, heading down the castle hallway. Dilandau didn't have a clue as to what the hell the boy-king had planned, but it probably included doing something stupid in the name of heroism. Van, a man with a mission, stopped at Merle's room. 

"Merle, we're leaving," he said through the closed door.

The catgirl's voice was muffled. "Oh joy!"

"I think Hitomi's back," Van said.

"Oh fuck."

The two boys left and went to the stable. Merle did not come out of her room. 

Dilandau mounted his horse, not asking any questions. He thought of devious plans to keep Hitomi out of the picture, but most included blood, death, and gore, and he had time for none of them at the present time. Van took off in the direction of the forest, not even bothering to grab a sword. Dilandau never was without a blade, and followed him into the wood.

The boys rode in silence. Van seemed oblivious to the hurt that he was causing Dilandau and also appeared to have no idea that neither Dilandau nor Hitomi would ever stand for him to love the other. Dilandau was concentrating on the upcoming battle with a certain 15-year-old girl (he was convinced that these damn females were the bane of his existence). He should have been concentrating on another.

~*~

Hitomi refused to open her eyes. She heard nothing, smelled nothing, and (by choice) saw nothing. She felt only pain.

She had failed him. She was supposed to rescue her Fanelian king from the gray world of the dead. But she hadn't gone. No, she had severed the connection with Van and could never reclaim it. 

Pain swept over her, some from her heart and some from her hands, but it all produced the same effect. Hitomi passed out again. She dreamt of blood. Thick, clotted currents full of death. She knew whom the blood belonged too. 

Hitomi knew that Van was hidden somewhere in that crimson tide. She reached into the syrupy liquid and plunged in up to her shoulders, searching for her lost love. Somewhere, inside, she felt his screams of pain. Her hands burned as the blood touched them, licking at her like flames. Still, she continued her vain search.

And then the blood _laughed_ at her—a joyous, high-pitched sound that came only from a maniac. 

She recognized that insane giggle the instant she heard it. It belonged to the boy who was the nightmare of nightmares.

Hitomi screamed. 

"Gods!" cried someone. Hitomi opened her eyes and stared around her. Her numbed senses suddenly began to function again. Above her was a blurred man in gray. In the background were trees and a robin-egg blue sky. It smelled like…Fanelia?

"Van?" Hitomi asked. Her words slurred. She tried to sit up, but found that her muscles weren't working properly.

"Tell the sergeant that we found something strange in the forest!" the man called. Hitomi was beginning to realize that this man was not Van. 

"Wh-h-hoo?" she stuttered. 

"Gods!" cried the soldier again. Was that all he knew how to say? "Look at your hands!"

Hitomi wondered what in the hell he was talking about. Her hands were fine, weren't they? She wiggled her fingers and screamed as the pain hit. The man in gray looked down at her in alarm, then squatted by her side.

"It'll be okay, miss. We'll get you fixed," he blubbered, not knowing what to do with this bloody, confused girl who was wearing the strangest clothes on the planet. He wished he could be more like his older brother. Viole was one of the best soldiers Zaibach had ever had. He would have known what to do.

"I…Van!" Hitomi said, straining with each word. Why didn't this guy get it? Hitomi was becoming impatient.

"It'll be okay, miss! Zaibach has the best medicine in all of Gaea," he reassured her. 

Hitomi heard only the word "Zaibach," and was overwhelmed with an emotion that was a cross between euphoria and terror. She was on Gaea, but she was in the hands of Zaibach.

As she drifted out of consciousness yet again, Hitomi uttered one word that the young soldier would never forget due to its strangeness.

"Ironic."

~*~

Van didn't hear Hitomi's pained scream. Instead he felt it. An overwhelming wave of phantom pain racked through his bones and any doubts regarding Hitomi disappeared. He pulled his horse back, momentarily stunned with a hand pressed against his heart.

The self-proclaimed "forgotten" Dilandau Albatou however, was not suffering from Van's affliction. His hearing was better than the king's was and Hitomi's scream rang through the forest crisp and clear. Dilandau turned his horse in the direction of the cry, but stopped at the sight of Van.

"Pull it together Pigeon," he commanded. Dilandau's soldier spirit was running on high. He kicked his horse and plunged ahead. He smiled as he heard Van follow. If _he_ could put up with all of Celena's problems, then Van should handle Hitomi's just fine.

Van strained for another sound from Hitomi. There was nothing. He felt another disruption in the connection with the girl and in a flash of enlightenment, thought that she could be unconscious. This scared him terribly and Van spurred his horse rudely, forcing the animal to charge ahead.

Dilandau saw this and wasn't pleased. They were _very_ close to the place where the scream had come from, and Dilandau had a hunch Hitomi was in pretty serious danger. Van couldn't simply rush in without knowing the situation. Dilandau was beginning to see why he had been chosen to lead the army and not Van himself.

"Stay back," he hissed as Van's steed overtook his. 

"Hitomi's in trouble! We have to hurry!" Van argued. He pushed ahead.

That sufficiently pissed Dilandau off. He was not going to be treated in this manner. Forgotten or not, nobody talked that way to him. Dilandau drew his knees up and crouched on his steed. With a quick calculation, he launched himself off his mount and hit Van square in his side. The Fanelian went flying through the air, Dilandau tumbling with him.

Gritting his teeth as his body made contact with the unforgiving forest floor, Dilandau jumped upwards, flinging the very surprised Van beneath him.

"What in the hell?!" Van yelled, firmly pinned. Dilandau slammed the heel of his hand over Van's mouth, silencing him.

"Shut up!" Dilandau whispered. Gods he was angry. "Don't you know anything? You can't charge into danger without knowing what you're up against! Does the word 'stealth' mean _anything_ to you? For crying out loud, think logically for once in your life!"

Van glowered at Dilandau's insults, but said nothing as the taller boy lifted his hand. Dilandau noticed how cute Van looked when he was pissed off and felt like planting a searing kiss (and quite possibly more) on the boy. However, given the circumstances, Dilandau decided against it. Instead he stood up and helped Van to his feet. He motioned for Van to follow him as he began slinking thought the forest.

"Danger?" Van whispered after a moment.

"Where?" Dilandau asked, startled. He looked around.

Van crept along behind him. "No, you said there was danger ahead. What were you talking about?"

"That," Dilandau whispered. Gently he lifted a tree bough and pointed to a Zaibach soldier standing beside a tree, on the lookout for the enemy.

~*~

Pain was definitely too weak a word.

As Dilandau was busy sweeping the forest floor with the body of an unfortunate Zaibach soldier, Hitomi was coming too once again.

This time however, she was fully aware of her situation.

Hitomi (albeit groggily) sat up startlingly fast. Leitken, the younger brother of the infamous Dragonslayer Viole, was so surprised he jumped. Hitomi bit back a cry of pain and pressed her ragged hands against her chest. Tears came to the corners of her eyes.

Leitken recovered. "Let me see your hands, miss. I won't hurt you."

Hitomi looked at him with pure terror.

"I was bandaging them. See?" Leitken pointed to Hitomi's hands. She looked down and saw the sweet-faced soldier wasn't lying. Her left hand was completely wrapped in some unfamiliar cloth and the other hand was half finished. Hitomi's old trusting intuition stirred. 

"Thank you," she said. Carefully she extended her right hand. Leitken hesitated, then continued his wrapping job. He never should have been a soldier; his heart was too gentle. His heart went out to this girl.

Hitomi sat patiently, watching Leitken work. Silently she steeled herself for this world. She cast off her old fantasies in favor of reality: Kevin was dead, not Van. Her Fanelian king was alive, and she prayed that he would come for her. She didn't have the energy (or the courage) to try and connect with him right now. Hitomi also accepted the fact that Zaibach would _love_ to kill the girl who had helped destroy their empire.

"What are you going to do with me?" Hitomi asked. It would be good to know what kind of torture Zaibach had in store for her.

"Depends. Where are you from?" Leitken said, finishing his bandaging.

"I'm…well I'm…from Fanelia," Hitomi stammered. She was surprised. Instinct told her that Leitken didn't have a clue as to who she truly was.

"Hmm. I'm from Zaibach," Leitken said, surprised as well. The girl didn't _look_ like she was Fanelian. "My name's Leitken. Leitken Kharin."

"I'm…" Hitomi thought frantically. "…My name's Yukari Uchida."

"Nice name," Leitken affirmed. He was going to ask about her hands, but a sound stopped him. He turned and listened closely. Bushes rattled ever-so-slightly in the distance, and he knew his sergeant was arriving.

Hitomi saw the hesitation and saw her chance. She jumped to her feet and pumped her legs furiously, running in some random direction. At least, that was how it was _supposed_ to be. She took a good three steps forward and her legs gave out. Traitorous appendages. Leitken heard her try to escape and turned swiftly, catching her as she fell. 

"Let me go!" Hitomi screamed, beating against him. Leitken bowed his head, his violet curls bouncing at his ears. 

"Now why did you have to do that?" he whispered, holding Hitomi tight. He disliked having to restrain girls. Especially wounded ones. 

Hitomi may as well have been deaf. "Let me go!"

"Let her go!" commanded a voice. Leitken looked up to see a coltish young man charging at him. Behind the boy was…what the?

"Leitken, don't move! You there, stop!" came the voice of the Zaibach sergeant.

Leitken winced as the boy stopped, stunned. Hitomi saw Van, looked to Dilandau, and screamed.

~*~

Why did everyone always have to scream at the sight of him? Dilandau shook his head.

"Van, come back here," he said in a hushed undertone. The idiot was in yet another not-so-well-thought-out situation. 

Van's body was rigid. He stared at Hitomi, who was staring at Dilandau in complete horror. Slowly Van backed up, an inch at a time.

"No Van! Behind you!" Hitomi screamed. Obviously the little bitch didn't understand the situation. The stupid brute that was holding her began backing away.

Dilandau stepped in front of Van, placing a hand on the boy's stomach in order to restrain any sudden outbursts. This situation would take some very delicate maneuvering. Thanks to Pigeon, the element of surprise was gone, and the entire regiment was staring down the two of them, swords poised. 

"I, Van Fanel, King of all Fanelia, order you to release that girl at once!" Van commanded over Dilandau's shoulder. Dilandau could have hit him. Now Zaibach knew exactly who they were. Shit.

"You're just the person I was going to talk to," replied the sergeant, a tall aging man with the gut of too many beers. "I have come to—"

"Shut the hell up," Dilandau said, withdrawing his sword. "The king said to unhand the girl. This _is_ Fanelian ground, and the girl is one of the locals. I suggest you do as you're told."

The dumbass of a boy holding Hitomi looked up. Dilandau's eyes twitched as he took in purple curls and large eyes.

"We…we will return the girl to you, Your Majesty. But that's only if you hand over Dilandau Albatou," the doe-eyed boy said. He looked like he was about to piss his pants, but Dilandau had to hand it to him—the kid had guts.

Van fumed. "What in the _hell_ are you talking about?"

"You're related to Viole, aren't you?" Dilandau said, not letting the boy answer.

"I am his brother. My name is Leitken," the soldier replied.

__

Lucky you. Dilandau didn't want to kill this boy. Anyone could see he was a failure as a soldier, but he was Viole's brother. Perhaps he could be of some use. 

Twigs snapped.

"We're being surrounded," Dilandau whispered to the king. Van nodded.

"Give me the girl, sergeant," he commanded once more. Hitomi looked at the boys in horror.

The burly man stepped up. "I am not going to let you have Hitomi Kanzaki so easily."

__

So, they do_ know who she is._ Dilandau heard and saw the soldiers in the wood. He knew the plan already: no matter what Van chose, Zaibach would swarm the two of them, take him back, and kill Van. Then Fanelia would be theirs for the taking.

Well fuck that.

"Give the king the girl," Dilandau said. He threw down his sword. "I surrender."

"No you don't!" Van objected. He grabbed the back of Dilandau's shirt. "What in the hell are you doing?"

Dilandau looked halfway over his shoulder. "The letter, Pigeon. You have to read the _letter_. Now—" he paused and winked at Hitomi, "—When you get your beloved Hitomi in your arms, you spread those angel wings of yours and get the hell out of here as fast as you can. I'll handle this lot."

__

Choices, choices. What's your pick, Pigeon?

"Bullshit! What are you saying?" Van said. He thought frantically, trying to figure out how to get out of this nightmare. 

Dilandau winced and pushed Van away. "I am Dilandau Albatou!" he screamed to the soldiers. "I am the man you want! Leitken, you drop that girl _now._"

The curly-haired boy looked to his sergeant and let go of Hitomi. The girl took a step and then fell to the ground, unconscious. The air changed as the Zaibach soldiers began to rush them. Dilandau backed up a step and shoved Van towards Hitomi.

"Now!" he screamed. "Take her!" 

Van stumbled, then scooped Hitomi up in his arms. He turned to Dilandau who gave him the coldest look he could muster. Tears broke through and Van's face transformed into a painting of sorrow. Soldiers swarmed the boys, and Dilandau looked away, devoting his attention to cutting down as many of them as he could manage without having a blade. He would buy some time. As yet another knife came swooping down beside him, he saw a flash of white, and knew Van was gone. 

At that moment, he stopped fighting. The hilt of a sword came down upon his head, and Dilandau was glad for it.

~*~

__

Push it out. It never happened. Push it out.

Van reached out and checked Hitomi's pulse. Steady and strong.

__

She's back. She loves me. I…love her.

His mind was in a whirlwind. Everything was on an adrenaline-induced autopilot.

__

What the hell happened to her? Her hands…

Van looked at her bandaged hands. Hitomi, still asleep in his bed after being checked over by the royal healer, breathed in deeply. Van kept a vigil at her bedside.

__

Relief. I'm so relieved she's back.

He didn't think of how much it had cost him. 

__

Push it out. Just like when Mother left for her most-beloved son. Push it out. Just forget. 

Merle was curled in the opposite corner of the room. Dilandau was gone; Merle didn't like Hitomi either, but she was better than having a resident psychopath. The catgirl had fallen asleep sometime ago, unable to keep _her_ vigil on her king. Van would not allow himself to sleep.

While his right hand was constantly checking pulses, bandages, smoothing sheets, and slicking down hair, his other fingered the pink stone around his neck. His fingertips just wouldn't leave it alone.

__

Perhaps I should toss it out the window…that's what I should do. Then—there's a wrinkle in the quilt. Smooth it out. Everything must be perfect.

Nothing was perfect. In fact, the entire world was rapidly falling into chaos. But Van pushed it out and thought of nothing but Hitomi. His heart ached; he credited that to missing Hitomi for so long.

Nothing more.

There was a knock on the door. _The healer._

Must be.

"Come in," Van said. He smoothed Hitomi's hair again. She looked thinner than he had remembered.

Celena Schezar stepped through the doorway, smelling sweetly of roses. Dilandau had smelled—_Push it out._ She raised a small bouquet for Van to see.

"I thought she'd like some roses," Celena explained, cocking her golden head to the side. Van stood and walked over to Celena and took the roses from her. _Push it out. Push it out._

"I'm sure she would," he said. His voice was deceptively strong. Thorns pricked his hands.

"Sorry about that," Celena said. She looked at her own scratched hands. "I don't know how to take the thorns off myself and I couldn't find Dilandau-chan. Tell me, do you know where he is?"

Van dropped the roses. A mutinous tear coursed down his cheek and he wiped it away furiously. Celena looked at him with confusion and fear. Van needed something to hold onto, so he reached out and took Celena to him, holding the dear girl as lovingly as possible. 

"He's gone, Celena," Van whispered into her flaxen curls. Celena wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh." She thought a moment, then smiled. "Don't worry. He's okay. We're talking about Dilandau-chan here."

Van bit his lip and said nothing. She sounded older.

Celena rubbed the back of her head. "But I do think he has one heck of a headache."

That only made Van cry harder.

~*~

Dilandau was once again at the goddamn, good-for-nothing Zaibach capital. At least he was ninety percent sure he was, but that wasn't a good number. He was having a hard time keeping track of everything. 

He knew that he was carried in on some sort of leviship. He was lucky he had awakened while being carried on the ground. It was easier to judge a ship's direction, altitude, speed, and whatnot when you knew from where you been. It was also easier if you didn't have a splitting headache, but Dilandau could do nothing about that. 

__

Hey soldier, think you could bum me some aspirin?

Funny. Ha. Ha. 

Actually Dilandau was pleased with these soldiers. At least, he was pleased that an entire regiment of Zaibach's topnotch soldiers had to be dispatched to get _him._ Of course, these boys were nothing compared to his Dragonslayers. But no one (save him) was perfect. And that meant that these soldiers would make mistakes. Too bad they hadn't made one when tying him up. Damn, these knots were the work of a fucking _sailor_. 

Yep, Dilandau was given the first-class treatment. He had round-the-clock supervision, some moron of a doctor monitoring his vital signs ("When's he gonna wake up?" seemed to be the big question of the day. Stupid assholes), and on top of being strapped down, he was wearing something called a "straitjacket." _The Devil's coat. That's what it should be named. Where in the _hell_ did they even _get_ this contraption?_

The leviship had docked. Now would be the perfect time to escape, but Dilandau knew he wouldn't. There was nowhere for him to go. He would have to play a few different cards and win the favor of some aristocracy, and then he could get the hell out of Zaibach. He felt no loyalty to this country. As long as Dilandau had a war to fight or an army to control, he was a happy guy.

With a bone-chilling familiarity, Dilandau heard the door open.

"Okay you four, it's time," said the voice of the sergeant. 

"Just like that? We're simply supposed to grab him?" asked some spineless weasel. Dilandau almost smirked.

"He's unconscious and sufficiently restrained. Still, I understand your concern," said the sergeant (_what a cheesy dumbass)_. "But there's four of you and one of him. You'll be fine."

"Yes sir," said the soldiers. 

__

Whatever. Ah boys, do not_ underestimate me._

Cold hands grabbed him on both sides of his body. Dilandau ground his teeth together quickly, then relaxed to become dead weight for his captives. He didn't weigh much, but why try to help the enemy?

Out the door, down the hall. Hearing the numerous metallic clicks on the floor, Dilandau figured he was in the middle of the whole battalion. _How special._

Quick trip up the stairs and into the capital. Dilandau decided that for shits and giggles only, he would open his eyes. See what would happen.

It took (and Dilandau counted) 3.7 seconds for the soldiers to catch on.

"Shit!" exclaimed the first boy, stopping in horror. "He's awake! Doc!"

Dilandau stared blindly ahead, reveling in it. _What a talented monster am I._

"What? That's impossible. There's been no fluctuation in his state!" blustered the doctor. He checked his little handheld device that seemed to be keeping a constant reading on Dilandau. "He must be…I've heard of this, but never seen it," the man muttered under his breath, then looked up. "Don't worry men. He's still unconscious, keep going."

__

Quack. 

Dilandau watched as he went up the steps and into the ill-remembered capitol building. The soldiers kept giving him wary looks, which told him that they didn't quite believe the doc. _Smart_ _boys_. He watched in anticipation to be taken to Adelphos' throne room. However, as he saw the room pass before right before his eyes, Dilandau felt a heavy gloom settle in the pit of his stomach.

Remembering that if he became too tense his brain and heart waves would jump significantly and alert the doctor, Dilandau swallowed his apprehension.

That is, until he saw the sign with the words "West Zion Academy." Then everything began falling into place. And it was a nightmarish puzzle.

"Halt!" cried the sergeant. "Take him to the room on the left. Once he's in there the new sorcerers will take over."

__

New sorcerers? Fuck, they've promoted all the graduates.

Now, Dilandau wouldn't have minded if they were simply going to keep him in the country against his will, but if they were going to do more of the scientific experimentation shit, well…that was a _whole_ other question.

Dilandau waited only long enough for the four unlucky soldiers to drag his bound self through the door before he attacked. The door closed and Dilandau squeezed his legs together tightly and then snapped them wide open, throwing the two soldiers off his lower half. He flipped over backwards, wrenching his torso from the other two. He landed solidly on his feet; his arms bound and eyes flashing.

"Sergeant! We need reenforcements!" cried on of the soldiers, recovering. Dilandau smirked and kicked the keyboard control pad, locking the door as the pad shattered into a thousand pieces. 

"I _hate _it when that happens," he said. The four men looked at him in horror then grimly set their jaws in determination. Not like they really had much of a choice. _Sorry kids, but you knew that there were risks in this line of occupation. This is definitely one of them._

Swords were unsheathed. Dilandau saw the window. He liked windows.

"_Attack!_" screamed one of the soldiers. All four rushed Dilandau, who vaguely wondered if he could actually fight with a sword in his mouth. He'd only had to do it once, and that was a long time ago and—_Smack!_

One down. If you kicked a man _just_ right in the temple, POW! Dead. It helped if they weren't wearing a helmet, but a few broken toes never killed anyone.

Dilandau had made sure to learn other ways to battle without a weapon of any kind. 

"Stupid!" spat one of the soldiers, looking at the body_._ Two other soldiers came at him directly. Dilandau ran _at_ them, passing under their blades and turning around to kick them from behind, landing paralyzing blows on both their backs. As he landed, the remaining soldier kicked him at the side before he could react. Dilandau stumbled, almost falling to the ground before catching himself.

Dilandau laughed. "A martial artist, I see."

"Damn straight," said the man, dropping his sword. Dilandau smiled.

"Congratulations. Do you want a cookie?" he said. The man charged, attacking from every direction. Dilandau was not a martial artist, and he was also restrained, so he simply ducked every blow. This guy was semi-good, Dilandau decided…but he knew the soldier was good enough to beat him if he didn't get this goddamn contraption off.

He kicked the soldier square in the stomach, sending the man flying backwards. Dilandau saw his chance and ran to where one of the fallen men lay. He toed the sword, sending it flying into the air. _Now or never_. Positioning himself and wincing, he felt the blade crash down, grazing his back. He gritted his teeth as the sword made a shallow cut along his shoulder blades, but then grinned as the straitjacket split in two. 

Dilandau saw the soldier coming again, and he was prepared to take a blow as he got the jacket off. He braced his body and felt the man's hand connect with his shoulder. The hit was ill aimed, but it sent him flying backwards. It also helped him turn in the air so he could relieve himself of the jacket.

Dilandau landed, totally ready to kick some Zaibachian ass. He ran directly at the man and despite the soldier's attempts to block—_pitiful fool…ha ha!_—he nailed him right in the diaphragm. The soldier went down, unable to breathe or see. Dilandau raised the soldier's own blade to deliver the final blow when something sharp and small hit him in the throat.

"What?" he raised his hand and grabbed a small rod, pulling it out of his neck. One look told him it was a poisoned dart. "Oh you have _got_ to be shitting me."

He looked over to the direction that the dart had come from. Standing in front of a wall—_smart men were these; they had secret doors_—were three Madoushi. Brand-spanking new and ready to do some fate-fucking. 

"Hello, Dilandau Albatou. Would you like your amnesia now or later?" said one smart aleck sorcerer.

Dilandau's vision rapidly faded to black. 

"Fuck you," he returned. Blind, he staggered to his feet, only to fall over. 

"Clean up the bodies, prep the table, and then we'll do the operation. Remember men, this is only a simple memory erase; let's not get too excited," said another sorcerer through the pitter-patter of Madoushi feet.

And then Dilandau's world was gone.

~*~


	13. Chad

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Twelve: Life Goes On; Life Begins Anew

"…And there's a memory of a window

Looking through I see you

Searching for something

I could never give you

And there's someone who understands you

More than I do

A sadness I can't erase

All alone on your face..."

~ "God of Wine" by Third Eye Blind

~*~

Five days went by.

Van prowled the Fanelian Royal Grounds endlessly, waiting for Hitomi to wake up. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he didn't speak to anyone. Wordlessly he stripped thorns from roses for Celena, watching her carefully to see any change in her behavior. He didn't see any, but Celena felt a change. Dilandau had simply disappeared. There was no presence, no subtle feeling, just an emptiness. It was as if he had never existed.

Merle played at being nursemaid. She was becoming increasingly interested in the medical field and spent her free time badgering the doctor with questions. Other than that, she perched at Hitomi's bedside or the window, watching Van pace. Occasionally he would pick a flower, rob it of its petals, and then crush the bloom underneath his boots.

Van never said a word. He cancelled all meetings, postponed the construction of a Fanelian military, and wouldn't speak to his advisors. However, he did write one letter. The addressee was Princess Millerna. Despite all the conceptions of the princess being flakier than a bowl of cereal, Van liked her…sometimes. Millerna did have brains, and she was a good confidant. 

In his letter, Van had simply told Millerna that Allen and Gaddes had disappeared and the Schezar Manor had burned to the ground. He didn't worry about someone going to check out his makeshift graves, because Dilandau had revealed earlier that he had dug up the bodies and burned them too.

__

***

"You did what_?"_

"I wasn't satisfied with getting rid of Allen's possessions only. I had to get to the root of the problem."

"That's…that's horrible."

"Oh no, it was actually quite amusing. You should have seen how fast Allen went up in flames! He must have had about three pounds of hair spray in those golden locks of his. It was hysterical!"

"You are officially screwed up."

"And you wouldn't have me any other way, right?"

"I should have never said that. All you do is use it against me."

"Pigeon, stop bitching and come here and kiss me."

***

Van had stopped writing when he remembered that. Later, when he was able, he had returned to the letter and wrote that he was now taking care of Celena, who had somehow managed to escape the flames. Van had also told Millerna about Hitomi, and asked that she not reveal this information to anyone. Not until he sent word.

He had sent the letter a few days ago. Millerna still had yet to reply. Not that it really mattered to him.

It was the sixth day now, and Hitomi had been unconscious for almost a full week. The doctor said it was nothing, the girl was probably still in shock. Van didn't care how long Hitomi slept, just as long as she was all right. Though sometimes he told himself he didn't care. Van jumped back and forth from feeling elated and thoroughly pissed. Hitomi had put him through hell. But still…

He was walking through the garden, looking at some yellow daffodils, when the scream came. 

"VAN-SAMA!" Merle cried. Van turned just in time to see the catgirl springing down from the balcony window and onto the grass, pounding the grass with her paws. 

__

???

Van raised his eyebrows as the girl skidded to a stop a few feet in front of him. 

Merle panted for a moment then said, "Hitomi's awake!"

He was running before she had finished.

As he reached the door, Van halted abruptly. Suddenly he felt weird. What was he going to say? What was he going to do once he crossed the threshold and saw Hitomi once more? What was she going to think of him? What did he think of her?

"Well come on, go in," Celena said. Van jumped and saw the golden girl a little to his left. He was still amazed with her spooky habit of sneaking up on people. He wondered if it was a little "Dilandau" residue, or if it was something she had known long before the kidnapping. Hadn't he known how to sneak around the castle to steal cookies from the kitchen and/or sneak into Folken's room late at night, simply to be comforted by his big brother's deep, sleepy breathing?

"What should I say?" Van asked Celena, his voice hoarse and raspy. It was the first time he had spoken in days. 

"How am I supposed to know? I've never met her," Celena replied. Van smiled, but was troubled. Celena was sometimes so mature he felt he was living with his mother, but at other times he swore a three-year-old had more sense than the girl did. 

__

Oh well. I'll dwell on that later. There's no point in standing out here like a big lump of lard. Besides, he furrowed his brows,_ I shouldn't have to worry about what to say to _her._ She's the one who broke it off with _me._ I'm the one whose made the sacrifices._

Resolute, Van pulled open the door and stepped inside, letting it swing shut on its own. He stood there in silence, shaking with nervousness and rage while begging Hitomi to say something. He looked at the floor.

"Van?" Hitomi asked. Her voice sounded just as he remembered it. Van breathed in, trying to capture her scent. Sandalwood and rain; the same as well.

He still didn't reply.

"Van, look at me," Hitomi pleaded. "What's wrong?"

"Why," Van shuddered, "Why have you come back?" 

He looked up, accusing. Hitomi was sitting up with a blanket loosely draped on her shoulders. She was wearing one of Celena's nightdresses. It was too big. Her hair was a little longer, but nothing too noticeable. Her eyes were shocked by his expression. Van fought to hold his anger. 

"I…I realized I loved you," she answered. 

"I thought you realized that here on Gaea," Van asked. His tone was abrasive, but his anger was ebbing. It took too much to sustain a good rage.

"Van," Hitomi said, "Don't be like this. I hate this tough attitude of yours! I thought I had cracked that shell when I left! That's…" she lowered her eyes, "…that's my fault, I suppose. I left."

"What are you saying?" Van replied, "Are you saying that maybe it was wrong to finally open my heart to you and then leave? No Hitomi, that wasn't wrong. What _was_ wrong was to completely abandon me when I needed you the most!"

Hitomi began to cry. "I know…I'm sorry. Oh, your mother was right! Everything's my fault! It's my fault that you're this way, that Kevin's dead!" She stopped speaking and began sobbing hysterically.

"_What?_" Van didn't understand this at all. Who in the hell was Kevin? His mother?

Slowly Van walked over to where Hitomi sat and put his arms around her, feeling guilty. She leaned on him and cried into his throat. He wanted to tell her that everything was not her fault, but his throat was too thick to speak.

~*~

"Dilandau-sama? Dilandau-sama, are…are you alright?" 

Dilandau slowly blinked his eyes, coming out of a strange darkness._ What am I supposed to be paying attention too? Huh? Who's this guy? Wha—ah!_

The general toppled out of his chair. He caught himself with a hand and bounced up into a standing position. Furiously Dilandau looked around him. He was in a rather nicely furnished bedroom, sitting (before he had fallen out of a chair) at a large polished desk. He ran a hand over his armor, feeling strength flowing into his fingers from the leather.

__

What in the hell is going on here? Why am I not on the Vione_? Where in the hell's Chesta?_

"Who are you?" Dilandau bellowed at the young man standing in front of him.

"Uh…Leitken, sir," said the lad.

"Where in the hell's Chesta? Why are you here?" Dilandau asked. Surely his blonde slayer could tell him what was going on.

Leitken struggled to remember his lines. "Uh, forgive me Dilandau-sama, but he died."

"_WHAT?"_

Dilandau's slap rang through the room. Leitken stumbled. Viole had told him once of how one of his commander's blows could knock a man unconscious if he wasn't prepared for it. _Roll with it,_ he had said,_ rolling's the ticket. _Leitken did this now, feeling the synapses in his brain short-circuit.

Dilandau hefted him up off the ground, armor and all. "What did you say?" he hissed.

"You were battling the Dragon during the Great War, Dilandau-sama," Leitken sputtered, "All the Dragonslayers were killed, but you survived with only a head injury. It was very serious; you were unconscious for many colors. Don't you remember?"

Dilandau didn't have time to consider slapping the boy's impertinence. That would go on the back burner of his mind for right now. What was this kid talking about? Could this be true? He racked his brains, but he the last thing he could remember was leaving the _Vione_ to fight the Dragon. It was the time Folken was gone, right? _That's it,_ Dilandau realized, _Because the pussy was in Freid._

"What's the date?" he screamed. "And when did I wake up?"

"Today is Red, 2nd moon," Leitken wheezed, fighting for air. "You woke up…you woke up this morning. I was coming to deliver a message from Emperor Adelphos."

"_Emperor_ Adelphos?" Dilandau asked, lowering the soldier so that the boy could breathe, "When did he become the emperor?"

Leitken breathed deeply. "Folken-sama assassinated Emperor Dornkirk after he had switched sides. The _Vione_ crashed in the Bay of Palas, and after that he joined forces with the Allies. When Zaibach lost the war Adelphos was chosen to lead."

"Hmm," he murmured. Dilandau didn't think Folken had had it in him. So, Zaibach had lost the Great War. That is, if this boy was correct. He flicked his fingers and released Leitken, causing the violet-haired soldier to fall back. "Leave me the parchment," was all he said.

"Yes sir!" said Leitken. He handed the parchment to Dilandau like it was made of gold and bowed deeply. Then the boy rose, turned smartly, and left the room. Dilandau followed his movements with his eyes, making sure the door locked. When the mechanical "_click_" was heard, he fell to the floor.

Dilandau lay on the ground for quite some time. His mind was going a mile a minute and he couldn't slow it down. The Dragonslayers dead? Dilandau steeled himself. He felt an unacceptable ache in his chest as the reality of their deaths hit. He reeled for a minute, then pulled himself together. The Great War was over, okay. The Dragonslayers were dead, semi-okay. He had been unconscious for 10 colors? _Not okay._

Something about that didn't fit right. 10 colors? He felt his head, feeling for a bump or scar or _something_. There wasn't one. Dilandau knew that his memory wasn't faulty, for it was _his_ memory after all. But he also knew that one could not base a conclusion off a simple hunch. That was illogical and could lead to problems in the future.

So Dilandau stretched a hand, picked up the parchment from Adelphos, and unrolled it. He tried to read it slowly, but his hyperactive mind wouldn't slow down. When he finished, he stood up and scratched his head. Adelphos wanted him to come to the throne room. He said he wanted to "talk" about Dilandau's new duties.

Dilandau sighed with resignation. Dazed with shock, he decided to not even _think_ about what could have possibly happened during the time that he was unconscious. He wouldn't think of the improbability of his situation. He wouldn't let anything faze him. Obviously he was on active duty, and these were personal matters that he would investigate—deal with—later. A soldier did not mix personal problems with work.

Comforted by his logical thinking, Dilandau walked out of his room with his head held high. Leitken stood outside his room.

"What are you doing out here?" Dilandau asked darkly.

"I thought you would like an escort to the throne room, sir," Leitken replied.

Dilandau raised a hand to slap the boy, but held back. "In the future Leitken, do not think. You are a lowly soldier that is under the command of many. Let those higher up do the thinking for you. Also, wondering if I would like an escort is an insult, for it implies that I do not know my way around the capital of my homeland. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" Leitken said. His eyes were transfixed on Dilandau's hand.

"Then lets go," Dilandau replied, stepping forward. He walked briskly towards the throne room. He was in the General's wing of the capital, where all the high-ranking army officials resided when on active duty. It took him only a few minutes to get to the throne room.

Instead of stopping when he reached the grand doors that led to the inside, Dilandau plowed right on through. Behind him he heard the protesting cries of the guards, but they stopped when Leitken whispered, "That's Dilandau Albatou."

The official throne room of Zaibach was not a display of wealth. Zaibach was a military country, and made most of its money by providing protection for smaller kingdoms and selling technology…occasionally. No, the throne room of Zaibach was simply a large, steeled room with a random Zaibach flag or banner hanging from the wall. The throne itself was a large chair carved of black stone with many symbols and sayings from the Ancient Times.

Dornkirk had never used this throne. He was forever in the laboratory, and people only saw him on the photoscreen. Dilandau wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the man in person.

When the commander burst through the door, Adelphos looked at him with something close to happiness and a great deal of terror. Dilandau appreciated that. The emperor shooed away a few sorcerers that had been chattering in his ears and the robed men scurried back to their holes. 

__

Filthy rats. Conniving together so that they can control the throne, I see. Didn't lose anything time there. Oh, just you wait_, assholes._ Dilandau threw them a bone-chilling look. He was shocked to see that he didn't recognize a single one of them, but he didn't let on. Briefly he dropped on one knee, bowing before Adelphos before standing up once again. He never was one for obeying authority.

"Your Majesty…" he said, leaving room for Adelphos to say something. The man remained silent. "…I hear that I have been summoned here so that we can discuss my new role in the Zaibach military. What do you want?"

"Welcome Dilandau," Adelphos said. "How are you feeling?"

Dilandau's face grew hard. "Fine."

"That's good. I was worried that all those colors spent in…a coma would have hindered your…your…" Adelphos searched for a word.

"You will never have to worry about that," Dilandau said through gritted teeth. How _dare_ Adelphos doubt his abilities? He could feel his aggravation growing.

Adelphos laughed nervously. "Yes well…I need you to rebuild Zaibach's military."

"Rebuild Zaibach's military?" Dilandau blinked, feeling a mysterious sense of déjà vu. There was no way he could take such a job. "I train specialists. Get someone else."

"I can't. I am the only surviving general of the Great War. Almost every important Zaibach officer is dead, along with most of the Madoushi," Adelphos replied.

Dilandau folded his arms and dug his heels in. "Where are your underlings?"

"Dead. Like your Dragonslayers." Adelphos' mouth twitched. Dilandau fumed. _Low blow, you bastard._

"Ah, my Dragonslayers. You will need another regiment like them. I can provide you with one," Dilandau argued.

Adelphos narrowed his eyes. "And why would I need a specialty group such as that if I don't even have an army?"

"To provide protection to your growing army, of course. While the military regroups, I can take care of things temporarily with my men. It would be easy for a country to invade and throw over the crown since we are currently defenseless. I will provide _you_ with _personal_ protection. That way _you_ are always protected. No matter what," Dilandau said with a smirk. He could get what he wanted, and Adelphos could gain protection from everyone who had their eye on the fragile throne. 

"Yes, yes!" Adelphos said with shining eyes. He was ecstatic. This way Zaibach could keep Dilandau happy and well…he could always take a couple of veterans and make 'em generals. After all, he could always step in and fix things. And if he couldn't, he could make Dilandau do it (though he disliked that prospect; ordering Dilandau to do things wasn't a pretty sight). He hadn't wanted to become emperor, but he was the best candidate around.

"So then," Dilandau said, "We have reached an agreement." He didn't bother to make the sentence a question.

"Yes. You may construct a new regiment at once, and in the same manner you did with the first Dragonslayers. So," Adelphos looked down piercingly. "What are you going to call this batch?"

"Dragonslayers," Dilandau replied, meeting his gaze.

"Why? We aren't after the dragon anymore. Fanelia is peaceful," Adelphos said. In the back of the throne room he could feel the Madoushi tense.

"Zaibach may no longer quest after the Dragon, but that doesn't mean that I don't. I have a score that I must settle," Dilandau said. He ran finger down the right side of his face. Before the new emperor could respond, he turned smartly on his heels and left the room.

The Madoushi crept up towards Adelphos. They were pleased with the success of Dilandau's brainwashing. 

"He doesn't remember anything, does he? Will it last?" Adelphos asked. One of the young men stepped forward.

"It's permanent," he said, trying to keep the smug smirk off his face.

Adelphos was suddenly struck with the image of a golden-haired girl standing in a beautiful garden. In her hand was a snail. He asked, "What about…the previous problems we had with…the girl?"

"That won't be a problem. He won't ever remember any Celena Schezar, and he won't be bothered by her either," said the sorcerer. 

Adelphos nodded, feeling sick to his stomach.

~*~

Three weeks passed. Hitomi regained her health little by little. Van tried to regain his love for _her_ little by little, but he could only feel himself growing more distant. He knew something was missing, and he knew it had a name…he just wouldn't give it one. Instead he was a delight to be around, and Hitomi doted on him and he smiled and laughed, seemingly full of love. Van realized that his heart was simply too bruised to love someone so completely again.

Dilandau passed his time training his new Dragonslayers. He didn't really think of them as Dragonslayers—they were more like Fleaslayers. None of them could come close to the worst Dragonslayers of the first regiment. But that would change in time, and if it didn't…well, there were lots of people in Zaibach. His birthday passed unnoticed, and Dilandau was glad for it. At night he would lie awake and think about the blank spaces in his memory, but he didn't worry about it. Occasionally a word or sight would remind of him of something long forgotten, something important, but he couldn't place it. 

Damn something's.

Merle grew more disgruntled with every passing minute. She had made her amends with Hitomi towards the end of the Great War. She had given her Van-sama over to Hitomi that day on the roof; he had gone to the Mystic Moon and reclaimed his beloved. But Hitomi had gone straight back to her planet the minute the war was over and she had to commit to the Fanelian King. Merle had seen the torture Van had gone through when Hitomi had tossed him aside. The catgirl hated Hitomi more than water.

Celena, on the other hand, seemed to mature everyday. Rapidly her knowledge increased and she loved to debate with Van's advisors on political issues. Sometimes she would be found in the research labs (Van had vowed to pull Fanelia out of her medieval ways and she had agreed…though she came kicking and screaming). Celena was good with technology. However Van found her more than once sitting in the flower gardens with her face in her hands, weeping for Dilandau. And once when he was walking to Folken's grave, he saw her sitting against the temple's steps, and he decided not to visit his brother that day.

One day a letter arrived from Asturia. It was from Princess Millerna. The envelope was a bright yellow and the parchment was scented like strawberries. Merle sniffed it and almost fell over.

Dearest Van,

Hello! I received your letter and was quite horrified. The Manor has burned down and Allen and Gaddes have disappeared? Not to worry, they're probably off throwing around their testosterone-inflated egos and belittling the female race with all their nonsense about chivalry. Chivalry, as you well know, is a just a way to keep women from recognizing their power and rights! I swear, the entire male race is simply a large infestation of _germs_ that oppress women with their male-chauvinistic views, slobbering all the way. Henceforth, I have become Asturia's first queen (I did tell you that I'm queen, right?) to come to power without a husband. As far as I'm concerned, _fuck_ the male race (do excuse my language). What Asturia needs is estrogen! And I'm here to provide it!

Anyway, what was I going to say? Oh yes—that darling sister of Allen's. Her name is Celena correct? No offense to you, but I worry for her growing up in a male-dominated society like Fanelia. She needs to be with strong and powerful women. Think about it, a man has controlled her for ten years of her life, and what an abominable display of testosterone he was. She needs to realize that she has rights and the freedom to make choices for herself! To do whatever she wants and not have to think about society's biased views! Do be a darling, and send her to me, please. Also tell Hitomi that she can come over here any time she wishes. She was always such a headstrong and independent individual and I think she would be just the "push" Asturia needs to get with the times. Oh, she'll be _such _a good influence on you as well! 

Oh, I have to go! Eries has passed out once again…I think she's having trouble adjusting to her newfound freedom. That and she's never worn pants before. Or maybe it's because she can finally _breathe_ since I've burned all the corsets. I can't tell you how uncomfortable those things are! Ta ta!

Love,

Millerna

P.S.~ If you here from Dryden, do tell me. I think he's gone into hiding.

Van couldn't believe his ears—eyes. Millerna, a feminist? He had known that she was something of a "tomboy" by Asturia's standards, but Gods! This was a little extreme.

__

Well, he thought, _all the power to you._

Van showed the letter to Hitomi, Celena, and Merle, expecting them to find it amusing. They all agreed with it. Terrified, Van spent the rest of his day in the throne room, "chatting" with his advisors, who were all men. Females, they decided, could be a frightening lot. He promptly appointed two women advisors the next day.

~*~

****

rainjewel: Millerna the feminist! Tell me, who saw _that _one coming?

****

Dilandau: Jeez, she's scarier than I am.

****

Hitomi: I wouldn't go that far.

****

Van: I would.

****

Celena: You're just scared because some female finally decided to take charge of her rights and cram them down your sexist throat!

****

Millerna, rainjewel, Merle, and Hitomi: You go girl!

****

Allen: Now ladies, everyone knows that a man's duty is to protect women, the weaker sex. You shouldn't rebel against us; we're here to protect _you_. Women need to be taken care of, and that's why men are here.

****

Merle: Oh yeah? Well protect and take care of this! *goes into major clawing frenzy*

****

Allen: Ah! Not my hair! My face! My beautiful complexion! *runs away*

****

Van: Uh, can't we all just play nice? I mean Allen has a poin—AH!

****

Hitomi: *Starts whacking Van on the head with a hammer* Don't side with Allen just because he has balls! God, all you men think alike. 

****

Van: Well if you're going to nail my—OW!—butt you might as well attack—OW!—Dilandau too! Remember, he was—OW!—the one "oppressing" Celena. OW!

****

rainjewel: Now why would we do that? Dilandau's the one with female soldiers and no equality issues. Besides, it's not like he had a _choice_ in controlling Celena.

****

Millerna: Besides, he burned all of my corsets for me.

****

Dilandau: If only you had still been in them when I lit the torch.

****

People with XX chromosomes: WHAT?

****

Dilandau:Uh, is that a war I hear? Gotta go! *runs*

****

rainjewel: Until next time. *chases after Dilandau*


	14. Kenichi

**Behind Enemy Lines**

By: rainjewel

_Chapter Thirteen: CoincidentallyLost and Found_

**A/N:** Hmmwell it's October 10, 2001 when I'm writing this. This story has been floating around in my otherwise air-filled noggin since the beginning of June. Production began aroundmid-June, I'd say (Previously I had been busy with "Lost and Found: The Alternate Ending" ß That's what we call shameless self-promotion). Just thought you'd like to know that I have _no_ life whatsoever. Pathetic, isn't it? Well, I hope you are all _very _appreciative.

~*~

Dilandau lay in his bed, sleeping a dreamless sleep. He never dreamed anymore. However he was glad for it; someone who goes to bed at 11:30 p.m. and has to get up at 4:00 a.m. needs as much sleep as he or she can get.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Dilandau instantly awoke and rolled over, trying to ignore the noise. 

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Damn it," he mumbled. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He glanced around his room, looking for the cause of the sound.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Dilandau swung his head around immediately. The sound was coming from the window. He threw off his covers and walked to the window. With an angry jerk of his hand he ripped the curtains open. 

Yellow eyes met his angry red stare. Pressed against the window was a large gray owl. Its heavy beak rapped against the glass, creating the tapping noise Dilandau had awakened too.

"Go away," Dilandau said, his voice irritated. He felt extremely grumpy.

"Hoot," said the owl. It rapped again on the glass.

"Stop that," he commanded. Dilandau raised a hand and pounded on the glass. The owl wasn't fazed.

"Hoot," it said again.

Dilandau stopped being nice. He opened up the window and punched the bird with his right hand. It tumbled off the windowsill, but then righted itself and flew through the open window. Dilandau tried to shut it before the owl got through, but he didn't quite make it. The gray bird perched atop a bedpost.

"You little devil," Dilandau said looking at the owl. Its yellow eyes were wide and smug.

Dilandau slowly came forward, his eyes locked on the bird. Suddenly he jumped forward, grabbing for the owl. The bird flew upwards and out of Dilandau's reach. He landed on his feet, rocking back and forth for balance. The owl landed back on the bedpost.

Gritting his teeth, Dilandau took another dive. The bird flew up again. Dilandau jumped at the bird for a _third_ time, but leaped higher and caught the owl as it flew upwards. He quickly wrapped his hands around the bird's feet to escape a mauling by the razor-sharp talons. The two crashed to the ground. The owl flapped about madly and Dilandau swung it around twice, dizzying the creature. He then flipped the owl upside down, stunning it. 

"Well," Dilandau said, breathing hard, "That was fun." 

"Hoot," said the owl. It flapped its wings ferociously and brought its head up to bite him on the hand. Dilandau dropped the owl out of pain. The bird flew up and perched on the bedpost, scratching his shoulder with its talons as it went. 

"Bastard!" Dilandau cried, bringing a hand up to feel the slash on his shoulder blade. With a horrid fury he dived at the bird again, bent on killing the feathered creature. However, the bird avoided every blow he threw at it. Blood began to run down in rivers from his shoulder and Dilandau knew that he had to treat it eventually. He glared at the bird and then marched into the bathroom. After a bit of rummaging he managed to locate some gauze and tape and bandaged up his arm.

"Fine then," he said to the owl, returning to his bedroom, "You can sit up there and _rot_ for all I care. But I swear to the Gods, if you shit on my bed or _anywhere_ in this room I _will_ take my flame-thrower to your stupid feathered ass."

Dilandau flung the window open, thinking the owl would undoubtedly leave the room if he stopped pestering it. He then jumped on the bed in a huff and lay down on his good shoulder. For a minute or two he was too angry to even think about sleep. The gash on his shoulder was going to make training harder for a couple of days. He fumed about his handicap, but finally he cooled down and fell asleep once more.

In the morning, the owl was still there.

Dilandau opened his eyes to find his new companion sitting patiently on his bedpost. Grumbling insults, he rolled out of bed and marched into the bathroom. He showered, still grumbling. When he walked out of the bathroom, the owl was still there. 

Dilandau started laughing.

"Stupid bird," he cackled.

"Hoooooot," the owl said. It actually sounded hurt.

He grinned and stopped toweling his hair dry. He took the wet cloth and snapped the bird with it. It made a satisfying _thwack_ against the owl. Gray feathers flew everywhere and owl growled menacingly at him. Dilandau felt a weird affection growing for the creature.

"Yeah? Well so's your mother," he replied, getting dressed. As he strapped on the large metal plates that served as shoulder guards, the owl flew down from the bedpost and perched on his shoulder.

"OUCH!" Dilandau yelled. The bird landed precisely on his cut. He punched at the owl, which flew up and landed on his other shoulder. It rubbed its downy head against his cheek, purring. Wincing, he rolled his shoulder about a couple of times, feeling the wound stretch unmercifully.

"Well, that undid any preliminary healing," Dilandau mumbled. He turned and looked into the mirror. "So," he said, slipping his golden diadem on, "You think that you can just waltz in here and assume the role of being my pet? What makes you think that you're qualified for such a position?"

"Hoot!" said the owl, puffing up his breast. Dilandau grinned. He couldn't help but be amused with this feathered creature. Something about it had a wonderfully familiar creature. 

"Hmph. I suppose you can stay, provided you follow my every order," he said, strapping on his sword belt. "But what shall I call you?"

The owl pulled its head into its shoulders, making it seem as if something had stepped on it. Dilandau took that for a shrug. He thought for a moment, trying to think of what could possibly be a good name for an owl. Then suddenly a word skittered across his patched mind.

"_Natal_," he whispered. The owl's head shot straight up and it hooted loudly. Dilandau nodded. "Natal it is."

And for some reason he thought of yellow.

~*~

What was the absolute worst possible punishment for disturbing a king? Did it matter on what he was doing at the time? What if it was something like walking in during an important meeting or simply interrupting his morning tea? Did they even _have_ morning tea in Fanelia?

Hitomi pondered these things as she wandered aimlessly through the hallways of the Fanelian castle. Now that she was well again, Hitomi found herself becoming increasingly bored with each passing day. Van was forever wrapped up in meetings, overseeing the training of the Fanelian military, and doing other kingly duties. At night he would meet with her for dinner and chat with her for an hour or so before he retired to his own chambers (or wherever he was going now since _she_ was technically in _his_) to get a restful night's sleep before running off again the next day.

He was such a stranger to her now. Hitomi felt that the special connection she had shared with Van during the war was gone. Hadn't she admitted her love to him and he to her? It seemed like the thought had never crossed his mind. They were like old friends being reunited after twenty years. Hitomi decided that she would simply have to find that connection once again, and love Van more than ever.

Well, whenever she could _find_ him, that is. And that was saying a lot.

Hitomi at least tried to find something to do to occupy her time. Her hands were still weak and healing from the accident, so she could only use them for a limited amount of time. She had sat and watched Celena mull about the garden (the girl was _planting_ flowers now instead of picking them. Merle supervised with obvious apprehension). Merle rarely spoke a word to Hitomi, except to insult her in a not-so-playful manner.

Everyone from the Great War was gone. Hitomi was saddened by the mysterious disappearance of Allen and Gaddes and hoped that they were having a jolly good time wherever they were. Dryden was rumored to be rebuilding his fleet in a remote location (far away from Asturia), so Hitomi couldn't talk to him either. And then there was Millerna, who suddenly sounded interesting. 

Hitomi sighed and leaned against the wall. She didn't know what to do. She wasn't going to go and disturb Van and it was raining outside. Merle was inside her room reading over some medical textbook, and Celena was nowhere to be found. Though, Hitomi had never actually _conversed_ with Celena; she'd only been up on her feet for little less then a week and the two girls had only exchanged pleasantries. Hitomi was also a little wary of the girl. After all, she had spent two-thirds of her life as Dilandau. And Hitomi could have sworn that on _that_ day, that day of days, she had seen—

"No," Hitomi said aloud. _Hallucinating. I was undoubtedly hallucinating._

Still, something didn't sit right. Hitomi pushed off the wall and began walking again. As she passed through the training wing, she stopped. A metallic _whoosh_ could be heard from a small room on her right. She tiptoed closer and peeked through the partially open door. 

Standing there, sword raised and eyes serious, was Celena Schezar. She was wearing familiar blue pants with the cuffs rolled up and belted tightly around her waist. Her shirt was white and two or three sizes to large, but she'd knotted the bottom so it came down to just above her naval. She was breathing heavily and beads of sweat were coursing down her face and neck. Celena drew back, raising the blade high above her head. Her arm tensed to deliver a blow to her imaginary opponent, but suddenly she dropped the sword.

"Hello there!" Celena said brightly, turning to the doorway. Hitomi felt herself blush.

Hi," she replied, stepping inside the room. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Nah, I'm just practicing," Celena said, shrugging her shoulders.

"OhI didn't know that you studied sword fighting," Hitomi said. She felt uneasy.

Celena smiled mischievously. "Not many people do. It's a secret. Do you want to learn?"

"UhI can't. Not in this," Hitomi said, motioning to her dress. It was a little green summer dress Merle had grudgingly lent her. Needless to say, it was a little small.

"That's true. These things are my brother's," Celena said. She pointed to her own outfit. Her face looked sad.

Hitomi stepped closer. "Do you have any idea where he could be?"

"No," Celena said, shaking her head. "I don't remember when he left. There's a hole in my brain." She smiled and sighed. Her slender hand fingered her sword.

"Do you mind if I watch?" Hitomi asked. Celena nodded enthusiastically, sending a spray of golden curls. Hitomi stepped back against the wall and Celena raised her sword once again. 

Without a sound the blonde girl lunged forward, charging at her enemy. Her left arm was held at a delicate arc while her right twisted and turned with the fluid grace of a cat, causing the sword to dance through the air. 

Celena jumped back suddenly, on the defensive. Quickly she brought her other arm up to hold the sword, spinning the blade in a gleaming circle to block any attack. Her feet crossed and uncrossed as she shimmied from side to side. Then she surged forward once more and another series of breath-taking motions were painted in the air.

Hitomi watched spellbound as Celena went through her repetitions. She couldn't believe the _beauty_ in which the girl carried the blade. Hitomi didn't know very much about swordplay itself, but she knew a good swordsman—swords_woman_—when she saw one. 

Celena stopped and turned to look at Hitomi. Her shoulders were heaving with each breath she took and her eyes were pinched with fatigue, but she was positively _glowing_ with happiness.

"My god," Hitomi breathed, "You're a prodigy! Did Allen teach you that?" Her awe of the girl was incredible

"Dilandau-chan taught me," Celena replied, hanging the blade upon a far wall.

Hitomi blanched. "_Who?_"

"Dilandau-chan," Celena repeated. She ran her fingers through her hair.

"When? How?" Hitomi asked. She'd never heard anything about Dilandau.

"Well, he did it before we were torn apart, but I don't know how," Celena frowned, "But when he came here he trained me in this room when he had time."

"Torn apart?" Hitomi asked. Fear was rising in her chest.

"He called it separation,'" Celena said. "I don't remember how it went, but I remember it hurt. A lot."

"I'll bet," Hitomi replied. Her brain processed the information slowly. "Wait! You said he came here, to Fanelia?"

"Yeah," Celena said. "Why?"

"Where is he now?" Hitomi asked, her voice urgent.

Celena shrugged. "He left. He never said where he went. Van had to tell me that he had gone."

"Van?" Hitomi asked. "Umexcuse me!" She turned and ran out of the room, leaving Celena in complete puzzlement.

Hitomi ran down the hallways, her anger and confusion growing by the minute. Why would Van allow such a monster to reside here in Fanelia? Dilandau had always wanted to _kill_ Van, so how could? Why hadn't anyone _told_ her about this little fiasco?

Hitomi didn't even slow down as she came to Van's chambers. Two guards turned a little too late as Hitomi slammed against the door, flinging it open with a demon's force. 

Van was bent over the shoulder of some black-haired woman sitting at a desk. In her hand was a parchment with a huge jumble of numbers. The two looked up at the furious girl with obvious shock.

Hastily Van stood up. "Hitominice to see you. Verdi, we'll look over those figures at another time."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the black-haired woman mumbled. She rose and left without a word, taking a huge amount of paper with her as she went.

"Who was that?" Hitomi asked, her voice loud and high with indignation. She walked to the front of desk and stared across at Van.

"My financial advisor. Probably the best advisor I have for that matter. Why?" Van asked, looking at Hitomi with utter confusion.

"Hmph. That all?" Hitomi asked.

Van frowned. "Of course. What's wrong with you?"

"Why didn't you tell me about Dilandau?" Hitomi asked pointedly.

"Dilandau?" Van asked. Hitomi saw him tense.

"Yes, Dilandau. I just had a exceedingly eye-opening conversation with Celena. Care to share some information with me?" she asked. Hitomi shot daggers with her look.

"Iyeah," Van floundered. "Dilandau was here."

"No shit? Hey try something new Van. How about telling me the truth?" Hitomi put her hands on her hips, then winced.

"Okay, just calm down. Here, sit," Van said, motioning to a chair on to her left. Hitomi sat down and Van stepped around the desk and pulled up another chair to face her.

"All right. Shoot," Hitomi said, folding her arms carefully.

"What?" Van asked, looking confused.

"Never mind," Hitomi said impatiently. "Just tell me about Dilandau. I would like to know what in the world possessed you to harbor a murderer."

Van flinched. "It wasn't like that. After Celena and Dilandau separated—"

"When did they do that?" Hitomi interrupted.

"The day I arrived at the Schezar Manor. Allen and Gaddes weregone," Van said. "That night Celena went into her room and, to put it bluntly, Dilandau came out of it. Obviously they had separated. Dilandau promptly ran off and Celena was hurt. I cleaned her up, went and captured the maniac, and returned to the Manor to find Merle taking care of Celena. Within a day or two I sent Celena and Merle back here andtook care of things with Dilandau."

"What do you mean by that?" Hitomi asked. 

Van sighed. "I sorted things out, and got him to see _my_ point of view. And I was perfectly—okay, not perfectly—non-violent about the whole thing. After a couple of days we traveled back over here."

Hitomi reached out traced the light scar on the right side of Van's face. "Did he give you this?"

"Yes. Fortunately it didn't scar quite as well as he wanted," he replied.

"I'll bet. Was he the reason that the Schezar Manor was burned to the ground?" Hitomi asked, already knowing the answer.

"How'd you guess?" Van asked with a rueful smile.

"So you're trying to tell me that Dilandau Albatou magically turned over a new leaf because of something you said?" Hitomi mused.

"Look, I know it sounds ludicrous. Believe it or not, Dilandau has a good side," Van said.

"I'm leaning towards the not," Hitomi said.

"Hitomi, why would I lie to you?" Van said.

"Well, you have been doing a lot of it recently," she retorted.

Van held up his hands as if surrendering. "I suppose I deserved that."

Hitomi looked out the window and waited a few minutes before speaking. "You know, I saw him that day. He was with you when you rescued me."

Van's eyes suddenly went wet. He said nothing. Hitomi softened herself.

"You two got along pretty well, didn't you?" she said. 

"Yeah," Van replied. He shook his head as if ridding himself of a bad thought.

"Where's he now?" Hitomi asked.

"Zaibach. He traded himself for you," Van replied, leaning back in his chair. "Don't you remember?"

Hitomi was shocked. "N-no. Really? He did that?"

Van nodded. "Yes."

"Butwhat about those sorcerers? Oh my god," Hitomi said, realizing what had transpired. With a jolt she felt a wave of sympathy for Dilandau wash over her. "Do you think he's alright?"

"He's fine," Van said. "We're talking about Dilandau here. He's totally fine."

Hitomi lifted her eyebrows. "Who are you trying to convince?"

"Anyway," Van said suddenly, standing up. "I'll find out soon. I have to go to Zaibach and arrange an alliance with them."

"Why?" Hitomi asked. "They're an incredibly militaristic country. Why do you need an alliance with them in a time of peace?"

"To show unity among all of Gaea. It was Chid's idea," Van mumbled. He bent over the desk and began sorting through papers.

"How long will you be gone?" Hitomi asked, standing up.

"A day or two. I'll leave tomorrow morning," Van replied. He let out a long breath.

"You know what you need?" Hitomi said, boldly slipping up behind Van and wrapping her arms around his waist.

"A secretary?" Van whispered. His body was tense.

Hitomi laughed. "Well that too. I think you should go and take a nap, and I'll pack your suitcase."

"I can't do that. I'm the king. Kings don't nap," Van said, still whispering.

"Whatever. You're the king for crying out loud. You can take a nap," Hitomi said. He still didn't relax in her arms. Reluctantly she let go and backed off. 

"Thank you," Van called out, as she was walking towards the door.

"You're welcome," Hitomi replied, not knowing if he was talking about her packing, or her letting him go. With stiff legs she walked to Van's room, dragged out a suitcase, and packed his clothes with her tears.

~*~

Van leaned his head on his hand, bored out of his mind. Actually, he was wondering if one could be bored and anxious at the same time. He supposed one could if they waited for something for a very long time, so long that they grew bored with it. An interesting an idea, he thought. Usually he wasn't a very philosophical individual ("To be or not to be" never struck him as a deep thought; couldn't he just, "be?" Or was that simply too easy?).

Currently he was sitting in some private meeting room in the Zaibach Capitol. Adelphos was _supposed_ to be meeting with him "right away," according to a guard, but Van was growing increasingly suspicious of _that_ man's IQ. Especially after the idiot had called him "King Bong." Hmm

Merle (of course) was with him, along with a few other advisors and a newly appointed general named Natsu. The guy was an old friend of Folken's and the nephew of Fanelia's dearly departed General Yurizen. The man wasn't the smartest person on the planet, but he was an effective and gifted soldier. Van thought he would do well. Today however, Van had told him to not say too much; alliances were usually created through debates between kings and their advisors. But it was always a good move to bring a high-ranking army official along with you simply for intimidation.

Though Van believed that Zaibach had won the intimidation factor hands down. It was the reason he was so nervous. He was going to see Dilandau again. He didn't know what the reunion would be like; Dilandau might be acting like his older, definitely more violent self. Then again, Dilandau was never one to be pushed around.

"Here we go," Merle whispered in Van's ear as the door to the room suddenly opened. Van smiled at her, watching Adelphos march into the room, followed by a handful of sorcerers (Van inwardly blanchedthey were _so_ young. Obviously Zaibach hadn't wasted any time promoting the students) and bringing up the rear was a lovely fox-woman dressed blue.

Van popped a few knuckles. _Come on, where is he?_

"Greetings Fanelia," Adelphos said, sitting down. Suddenly, just as the door was closing, Dilandau stormed into the room. Much to Van's surprise, Natal was sitting straight and proud on the boy's right shoulder. Adelphos and the fox-woman looked at Dilandau with obvious displeasure, the Madoushi simply looked nervous. Dilandau smirked and sat down on at the edge of the table.

Van's heart skipped. Merle poked him, claws out.

"Uhgreetings, Zaibach," Van said, reluctantly turning back to the matter at hand. 

"I apologize for the _tardiness _of my general, Dilandau Albatou," Adelphos said, "Let me introduce my other advisors. This is Jun, Ratin, and Genma. And this lovely lady here is Rose." The fox-woman grinned, flashing her sharp white teeth.

Van nodded. "Nice to meet you. This is Merle, Natsu, Wesser, and Verdi."

"So you want to make an alliance," Adelphos began. Dilandau lifted an eyebrow and withdrew an apple fromhis sleeve? Van wasn't sure where it came from.

"Yes. Fanelia wishes to make Zaibach an ally. We believe that all of Gaea should be united. To remain isolated is not a reputable thing to do in these times," Van said pointedly. He flitted his eyes to Dilandau, who now had a rather large dagger in his hand. He was carving the apple, feeding the discarded bits to Natal.

"I can see your point, but why would Zaibach benefit from an alliance with Fanelia?" said Rose the fox-woman. 

Merle sprang into action. "Your country has been drained by the cost of the Great War. Supplies, I believe, are needed, along with money. Fanelia is completely rebuilt and prospering. In its weakened state, vengeful countries could easily invade Zaibach. If the county has allies, that problem is solved."

"We have a very capable defense system," argued a sorcerer.

"I doubt—" Natsu began, but Van cut him off, seeing Dilandau perk up.

"I'm sure you do. But still, what do you really have to lose by creating an alliance? I hope you're not thinking along more_imperialistic_ lines," Van said subtly.

Adelphos nodded. "You're right. Let us discuss alliance _terms_ and not the reason for the act itself."

Van nodded respectfully, sitting back in his chair. Now was the time when Merle and the others presented their terms and Zaibach theirs. All Van had to do was monitor. He liked this part, even if it did make him feel a bit lawyer-ish. This was politics at its best.

So instead of making statements and arguing (Merle and the sorcerer Ratin were having a bit of tiff, it seemed), Van watched Dilandau, waiting for a sign. The general meticulously continued carving the apple and flipping the unwanted bits into the air for Natal to catch. Gradually the red fruit grew to be the shape of a man. He never looked at Van once. 

Finally, as the loose ends were tied up (Merle and Ratin had at least come to an agreement; they agreed to disagree), Dilandau spoke.

"There's one thing you missed," he said, still not looking at anyone, "You never said what the repercussions would be if someone broke the alliance."

_Of course he would say that, _Van thought. Adelphos looked furious, but didn't quite have to courage glare at Dilandau.

Merle growled. "What do you mean by that?" she spat.

"As in is it worth my time?" Dilandau asked, looking straight at her. He brought up his hand and squashed his apple-man with a fist.

"Fanelia may be a supporter of pacifism, but don't think for a _minute_ that we wouldn't retaliate with force if the need arises," Merle said warningly. Then she added, "Butit would depend on the severity of the deed."

"That's nice," Dilandau said. With a flash he drew his hand back and flicked his wrist, throwing his dagger straight at Van's head. Van ducked immediately and the blade pierced the wall instead of his skull. Dilandau smirked. "How severe was that?"

For a second there was dead silence, then everyone began yelling. 

Merle's cries alternated between asking Van if he was all right and threatening Dilandau's life. Natsu had lunged across Merle's lap to save his monarch a little too late and was bellowing some heroic nonsense. Adelphos was profusely apologizing and trying to reprimand Dilandau. The only people smiling were Dilandau and (suprisingly) the Madoushi.

Van was stunned. He knew a deathblow when he saw one. Gods, he thought Dilandauhe thought that heVan couldn't believe it. That wasn't acting. It didn't matter if Dilandau was doing all this for show; that was a _very_ real attempt on Van's life. Suddenly he remembered the look on Dilandau's face when the Zaibach soldiers had taken him away. It had been as cold as ice. _Perhaps,_ Van thought, not wanting to believe it,_ perhaps this _is_ what Dilandau has wanted all along. Perhaps it was all an act with me as well. Just look at that smirk. Could it be? _

With great composure, Van waved a hand to silence everyone and pried Natsu off his body. He reached up and pulled the dagger out of wall. The knife had been thrown with great force. The blade was completely imbedded into the wall. Only the handle was visible.

"I'm fine," Van said, sitting up. "Don't worry. Adelphos, I will not take this to show the feelings of Zaibach as a whole." He turned to face Dilandau. "I see your point, General." He threw the dagger as hard as he could to Dilandau's left. Dilandau, quick as lightening, reached up and caught it before the blade touched the wall. 

Someone in the room gasped. Van's eyes widened. _He's been training._

Unfazed, Dilandau flicked his fingers and the knife disappeared. "The punishments will be fierce." 

"Very," replied Van and Merle simultaneously. Absently Van wondered if this conversation had a hidden meaning that he just didn't understand.

"Well, it's good to see you two getting along," Adelphos laughed nervously, "I suggest we adjourn this meeting before anyone dies."

_Tactful. That was _really_ tactful._

"Agreed," he replied.

"I look forward to working with Fanelia in the future," Adelphos said, rising. Van stood up as well, and the two kings bowed to one another. Then Adelphos turned and left the room, followed by his advisors. Merle stood up and all but ran after one of the Madoushi, renewing some debate. 

Dilandau lazily rose to his feet, his eyes burning. Natal flapped his wings to regain his balance. The general flashed one cunning grin at Van and Natsu, then disappeared out the door. Van leaped towards the door, walking as fast as he could, but when he entered the hallway Dilandau was already gone. 

~*~

Dilandau couldn't believe his luck. The moron was standing on the balcony totally alone and oblivious to the world. Gods, he wished he could laugh. But that would give away his position and then all his fun would be ruined. 

_And we couldn't have that, could we?_

Luckily that damn owl wasn't anywhere to be found. Dilandau wasn't sure where he went, but he didn't really care. And the Dragonslayers had the day off (when your commander is gone for the day for some damn pointless meetings, what's the point?) so there wouldn't be any disturbances. Although, Dilandau didn't have a clue as to when one of Van's ridiculous advisors or that annoying cat child would poke their noses in, but that made the entire thing more interesting. Gave it a dangerous spin.

_Though, isn't it dangerous enough that you have to jump down a story to get to the bastard?_

Dilandau smiled to himself. Quickly he shrugged off his armor (_can't fall properly with this stuff, can we?_). With a few quick steps he launched himself off of the edge of _his_ balcony to drop down a story to land directly behind Van. He still had his armored boots on so he made a soft metallic _clink_ as his feet hit the ground. 

Van turned around with a start. He smiled warmly when he recognized Dilandau. "You needn't be so dramatic."

Well, that certainly wasn't the response Dilandau had been planning on. The guy looked _happy_ to see him. Dilandau didn't make people happy, for gods' sakes. So Dilandau did the first thing that came to mind; he grabbed Van by the shirt and slammed him up against the wall.

"I wouldn't suggest you mock me," Dilandau hissed. "I could kill you right now and no one would know."

Van did another astonishing thing. He rolled his eyes. "There's no one here, you can drop the act."

Dilandau took a step back and then shoved Van against the wall again. "Does this look like Community Theatre to you? How dare you suggest such a thing?"

"Are you okay?" Van asked, wincing. He looked up and down Dilandau. "They didn't _do_ anything to you did they?"

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Dilandau asked. The jerk had ruined the game. Why couldn't he just beg and plead like he was supposed too?

"Come on Dilandau, stop it. It's not funny anymore," Van said. 

"This situation is far from humorous," Dilandau said. He whipped out a dagger from his boot and held it under Van's chin.

Van looked at him oddly. "Just give it up, okay? And what in the hell were you thinking when you threw the dagger at my head today? I know you have to put on a show and everything, but wasn't that a little much?"

"A show?" Dilandau seethed. He slashed a line across Van's chest, right across his heart. "Does that _feel_ like a show to you!"

Van brought up a foot and kicked him squarely in the stomach. Dilandau groaned and dropped him, taking a few steps back. Then he recovered and squared his feet defensively. The other boy however, made no move to attack. His eyes were wide and feverish.

"No!" Van shouted, shaking with rage. Dilandau, curious at this sudden mood swing, folded his arms and waited. Van raised his finger and shook it like an angry mother. "No! I refuse to believe this! I _will_ not believe this!"

Dilandau scratched his head with the tip of his dagger. "What are you blabbering about? Stop it and fight back for crying out loud. I'll even give you a free shot."

"No!" Van shook his head. "You are not going to sit there and pretend like nothing happened. Dilandau, I will not let you pull this one over. What about me? What about Celena? How could you come back here after what they did to you?"

"You're insane," Dilandau whispered. 

"Said Dilandau Albatou," Van retorted. Dilandau charged him at that comment. One-handed, he grabbed Van by the shirt and shoved him against the wall, this time pressing his whole body against him so that the boy couldn't kick him. He held the dagger right at Van's ear.

"Now you listen here," he said with his voice low and furious, "I will not sit around and be insulted by a madman. Now you better snap out of whatever insanity you've succumbed too, because I don't like killing crazy psychotic fools as much as I like killing competent sane ones."

"I don't get it," Van whispered. "I don't get it. I could handle it if you simply decided to play me for a fool, but for you act as if you don't remember those couple of colors" he stopped talking and a tear slipped down his cheek.

Dilandau felt his temper flare up.

"Don't you even _try_ that! I thought a moron like you went in for all that honor crap. Fine, it's true I don't remember anything that happened ever since you and your goddamn Escaflowne took down my unit outside Freidbut don't you think for one second that you're going to use that against me. I've been training, Van. I'm not going to let those colors spent in a coma affect my fighting. You better not think that for _one_ _goddamn_ _second_." Dilandau spat the words at him. He felt shaken.

"Stop it!" Van screamed. "You don't have to put a story to it!"

"It's not a fucking story!" Dilandau screamed back.

Van straightened up. "Isn't it? Than what about Celena, huh? If you were in a coma than how do you explain what happened? Where'd she go?"

"You know about Celena?" Dilandau exclaimed, "That's it, now I _have_ to kill you." He raised the dagger but Van grabbed his hand before it could strike. 

"Dilandau, you can't just _forget_ her! She's at the castle for goodness sake," Van said.

"I'm going to kill you!" Dilandau cried out. With a surge of energy he broke from Van's hold and brought the dagger down. Van pushed off the wall and leaped out of reach. He was stronger than Dilandau remembered.

"So this is how it's going to be, is it?" Van said as Dilandau recovered and began circling him. "Well you know what? I don't need you."

"What?" Dilandau stopped in mid-step. _What in the hell is he talking about? _He was so shocked he dropped the dagger.

Van folded his arms. "That's right. In fact, I never needed you. Hitomi is the one I love. Not you, Dilandau. I _never_ loved you!"

"You're _sick_,' Dilandau said, "I know I'm good-looking, but don't you start incorporating _me_ into your twisted sexual fantasies."

Van took a few steps forward, marching with a purpose. Suddenly Dilandau felt very uncomfortable.

"I don't need you!" Van screamed. He charged Dilandau, who moved to the side but not quite fast enough. Van slammed into him, pinning him against the glass door. The glass cracked and began to spiderweb.

"Tsk, tsk. You shouldn't break Zaibach property," Dilandau said. "Now get off me before I kill you."

"I don't need you Dilandau," Van reiterated.

"Don't tell _me _that, you disgusting barbarian," Dilandau replied.

Van ignored him. "I'm not ever going to need you again. But youyou're going to need me."

Dilandau smirked, though he felt very awkward. He'd never fought a lunatic that acted with such sanity. "Oh, and do tell me how I'm ever going to need your sorry ass."

"To put it bluntly, you're going to need _this_," Van said. Dilandau had half a second to figure out what was going to happen, and then Van leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. For a moment, he didn't know what to do. He'd never been kissed before in his life. Actually, it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

And then reality hit. 

Dilandau pushed against Van, bringing his elbow up just enough so he could slam it into the door. The glass shattered instantaneously, and the two boys went crashing to the ground.

He was on his feet like lightening. "What in the hell was that about?"

"As if you don't know. You're so full of bullshit," said Van, wincing as he felt all the minute cuts on his skin. He stood up. "But you still taste the same."

"You shut the fuck up," Dilandau said, wiping his mouth with his forearm. "You just shut the fuck _up_."

Van looked at him with anger born of hurt and said nothing. Off in the distance Dilandau heard the pounding of metal feetor was that his heart? A sudden rap on the door made the decision for him.

"Your Majesty, is everything all right in there?" Dilandau recognized Leitken's voice. He took a step towards the door and swung it open.

"Leitken, why do you care?" Dilandau asked.

"UhDilandau-sama!" Leitken dropped to his knees. "I heard glass breaking and seeing as we were ordered to protect the king and all..."

Dilandau cocked an eyebrow. "Who gave you those orders?"

"I don't know, sir. I'm not the one who received the message," the curly-haired boy replied.

"Leitken, your orders come directly from me and _only _from me. I don't care if a Gaean God comes down from the Heavens and gives you an order. You only follow what _I_ tell you, is that clear?" Dilandau said.

Leitken nodded. "Yes sir!"

"Good. Get out of here and enjoy the rest of your day off. Training begins early tomorrow," Dilandau said. The boy jumped up and saluted, but paused.

"Dilandau-sama?" he asked timidly.

"What?" Dilandau spat.

"You're bleeding quitebadly," Leitken said, motioning to Dilandau's arm.

"As you will be if you don't get your purple-headed ass out of my sight, got it?" Dilandau yelled, smacking the boy upside the head. Leitken ran off immediately. 

He turned back around to Van, trying to hide his trembling. "The only reason you're still alive is because I want to kill you _and_ your beloved Mystic Moon bitch. And then perhaps I'll take over your whole fucking country. Watch your step, Van Fanel."

And with that Dilandau turned and walked out the door.

"Dilandau!" Van called out. He paused. "Allen had an owl named Natal. Don't tell me you don't remember Allen Schezar? Your big brother?"

Dilandau turned around and slammed the door in his face.

~*~


	15. Harriet

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Fourteen: The Beginning of the End

****

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, you don't own Escaflowne, get over it. J 

****

A/N: I dedicate this chapter, this story, and all my works to Sophie, who was brutally taken from this world October 26, 2001. You have been with me longer than my memory reaches. I will cherish you forever and hold you close to my heart.

~*~

__

"This is over my head

but underneath my feet

because by tomorrow morning

I'll have this thing beat.

And everything will be back to the way it was

I wish that is was just that easy…

...and what is real?

Just a dream."

_~ Lifehouse_

~*~

The next day was hell for the Dragonslayers. Dilandau couldn't help himself. Van's words, despite their lunacy, kept ringing through his mind. And it wasn't just the words themselves, it was the way that Van seemed to believe them wholly and thought them to be the truth. Dilandau couldn't understand it, and it caused him to reexamine his own doubts behind the sorcerer's tales. 

Consequently he flung himself into training with far more zeal then he had ever done so before—and that was saying a lot. Breakfast had been skipped (soldiers fight better if they have a desperation of an empty stomach, he told them) and training had begun at 3:00 a.m. (the wee hours of the morning were superb for concentration). Actually, Dilandau didn't need to make excuses to any of his men. It was more for himself so that he could find the reason and logic in putting his men through suicidal training that was usually reserved for far more desperate situations.

During the half-hour lunch period Dilandau constructed an elaborate obstacle course in the gym and training fields. The Dragonslayers watched him with dread as they wolfed down their meals, but went through the next two hours without complaint. Though there were a few frightened screams as they discovered that the last obstacle was Dilandau himself. As he wielded his blade effortlessly in his anger, the lethalness of his moves enhanced through his confusion. Each boy came upon him and fell within seconds; some felt sure of their deaths and from them did the screams come. Those who cried out ran the course again. 

After that the soldiers had the pleasure of escaping to the weight room for an hour to work out however they pleased. Dilandau worked himself into a frenzy, pushing the limits of his body as his mind burned with questions. He feared what could have happened in the 10 colors he couldn't remember, and he feared that he was skating on the thin ice of sanity. 

Into the night the brutal training continued. Guymelefs weren't available at the moment, so Dilandau made up for their loss by schooling the Dragonslayers in alternative ways of fighting, such as wrestling, boxing, and a smattering of martial arts. Since he was by no means a master of the latter, they spent the least amount of time on it. Dilandau made a mental note to become a kung-fu prodigy. He never slowed down. 

At 10:30, with hidden regret, he began the last task of the day. Sparring. He personally matched the pairs, putting the strong together and the weak likewise. It did no good for a more advanced swordsman to fight with a green bumbling fool. He ran from one pair to the next, critiquing (insulting), teaching (yelling), and punishing those who did not live up to his expectations (ouch).   


But still it wasn't enough. The minute Dilandau paused those words came back to him like many unwanted ghosts. He was haunted by Van's words, his voice and, Dilandau realized, mostly by his kiss. For one damning moment he had found himself enjoying Van's lips, his closeness. He had so badly wanted to—

"Damn!" Dilandau said. He shook his head to clear his fogged mind. Leitken and Cedric stood before him, panting. They took his outburst to be directed towards their sparring. Neither of the boys were outstanding in the field.

"How shall we better ourselves, sir?" Cedric asked, his tone light and eloquent as always.

"Nothing. Continue! You can't stop in the middle of a battle," Dilandau said absently. He looked over to the old observation deck above him. It was a glass-encased box attached to the ceiling of the training room and was only accessible through two decrepit wooden catwalks on either side. In the olden times, high-ranking army officers or nobility had sat in it, checking on the soldiers progress or simply for entertainment. No one ever used them anymore. 

But tonight Dilandau's eye had caught sight of a lonely soul in the observation deck.

He saw the shock of black hair and the bright red shirt and knew at once who it was. He had thought Van had left yesterday (shortly after their little…meeting). He blinked his ruby eyes, but the image of the Fanelian king remained. Dilandau felt his blood begin to boil, and for the first time he wondered if it stemmed from something other than anger. Quickly he ran outside the training hall and dashed up the stairs that led to one of the catwalks. The Dragonslayers looked up at their commander as he sprinted across the catwalk, shrugged, and went back to their sparring.

Dilandau flung the door open. "Just what in the…huh?"

No one was there. He looked around and closed the door, making sure that if Van were hiding, he wouldn't be able to escape unnoticed. Dilandau then crossed the other catwalk and checked to make sure that no one had left through the other door.

Nope. The old rusted lock was as untouched as the one he had broken in his hurry to get to the deck.

Dilandau slowly turned and walked back to the glassed room. Quietly he shut the door, then roared in frustration and took his sword to the velvety seats within. This could not possibly be happening to him! 

"You bastard!" Dilandau whispered, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for breath. He glared around the room once as if Van were there to see. Then he sheathed his blade and collected himself. He stepped out and watched his Dragonslayers from up above, noting their shortcomings. Forgetting himself for a moment he leaned against the railing, only to feel it break underneath him. Dilandau jumped back immediately, staring at the hole.

And then he had a thought.

He turned and punched the railing behind him. It shattered upon impact. Good. It was just what he needed right now.

"Watch out below boys," he called out to the soldiers below. The Dragonslayers looked up just in time to see him throw his head back and laugh like a madman. Then Dilandau sprang forward and smacked against the wood with all his might. 

The Dragonslayers scattered.

__

Yes! Gives in just as easy as a tavern wench.

Dilandau rolled back and sprinted into the actual room, feeling the collapsing catwalk lick at his heels. He kept going; the room wouldn't be able to hold it's own without the support of both catwalks. He flung open the door to the other catwalk and saw Leitken running towards him.

"Dilandau-sama!" he cried. _Forever the idiotic hero._

"Turn around!" Dilandau ordered. This catwalk wouldn't hold with two people on it. Suddenly his little game had taken a very bad turn. 

Leitken frowned. The catwalk cracked beneath him and his foot went through the floor.

"Shit!" he said, realizing he was stuck

Dilandau gritted his teeth, bent down and ripped Leitken up. The catwalk crumbled under their feet.

"Hold on!" Dilandau screamed. Quickly he withdrew his daggers and threw himself at the observation deck. Leitken wrapped his arms around his commander's waist. Dilandau thrust his daggers into the wooden side of the room and dug them in as hard as he could, praying they would hold. 

Leitken looked down with terrified eyes. The catwalk behind him was no more. 

"Omygod," he said, his words running together.

Dilandau squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't know how long the daggers would hold, or his arms for that matter. His elbows were bent and tensed, screaming for him to extend his arms. However, he knew that he would most likely pull a joint out of socket if he did that. 

__

Well, this is a good test for how far along I've come with the daggers. Oh yeah, most definitely. I better get a fucking A+.

"Dilandau-sama! Are you alright?" The Dragonslayers suddenly appeared below him and Leitken.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Dilandau said, addressing Leitken. "You're going to have to let go of my waist. Your comrades are going to have to catch you. I hope you haven't burned any bridges. Now when you fall, keep your body rigid and straight. If you flail around it will be harder to catch you."

"How—I," Leitken began, but stopped as the observation deck moaned, the promise of destruction in its sound. 

"Now is not the time to be a coward. Okay men," Dilandau called down below. "You're going to catch this idiot."

The Dragonslayers looked at each other in disbelief, then moved in close together to catch their friend. 

"Now," Dilandau said. Squeezing his eyes shut, the violet-haired boy let go. Dilandau almost passed out as the weight of the other boy left him. He tensed his muscles.

The Dragonslayers caught Leitken with ease. They stood him up and he sank to his knees, clutching his throat as if he was going to retch any minute. 

Dilandau laughed. However, his cackling was cut short as the telltale cracking of the observation deck's demise. He looked down to his Dragonslayers and let go of his daggers. 

He closed his eyes. The dusty air whipped at his face and Dilandau felt free for the first time in a very long while.

But then he felt his momentum stop and the refreshing feel of air blowing against his back was replaced by the cool grip of the Dragonslayers. His eyes flashed open to see the deck splitting and wood raining down upon him. Dilandau sprang out of the Dragonslayers' hands.

"Run!" he screamed, sending the Dragonslayers sprinting off in other directions. But two boys stood there, dazed. Dilandau ran up to one of them and pushed him as hard as he could, sending him flying away from the falling shrapnel. The other boy looked at his comrade and began running, but it was too late. Dilandau knew this and leaped at the soldier, knocking him to the ground. 

"Don't move!" he yelled, covering the boy with his own body. He felt a couple of hard objects slam into his back but said nothing. The glass pane hit the ground somewhere near them and shattered into a million pieces, sending glass screaming through the air. Dilandau only had enough time to feel a dozen tiny shards imbed themselves in his side before a large wooden beam fell from the ceiling and connected with his skull. 

~*~

"How bad is he hurt?"

__

"Concussion, a few scrapes and bruises. Nothing too serious."

"Is it going to affect the…the…"

__

"No."

"Good. He's slipping into insanity, you know."

__

"Why the present tense?"

"Ha…he confronted the king in his room. Do you think his memory is returning?"

__

"No. He threw that dagger and he meant it. Absolutely."

"Wait. Who saw the confrontation, the one on the balcony?"

****

"I did."

"And?"

****

"We were wrong. He knew about Celena."

"Oh gods."

****

"But he doesn't remember anything else."

"And so why the sudden insanity?"

__

"Sudden?"

"You know what I mean."

****

"The king didn't forget anything that happened in the past colors."

"Obviously. I suppose they had a conversation that he didn't understand at all."

****

"Not a bit. Drove him mad, no pun intended."

"I'm not surprised."

__

"No one is."

"I take it he thinks Fanelia's insane."

****

"Ironic, isn't it?"

"Definitely."

__

"He'll get over it."

"I'm sure he will. He always does, doesn't he?"

**__**

"Yes."

~*~

"I'm an idiot," Van sighed.

Merle smiled and kneaded her king's legs. He was sitting in Folken's old bedroom (Hitomi was still in his) on a long couch. Merle had her head in his lap and he absently stroked her hair while he talked. She couldn't be happier. Today was definitely a Cat Day.

"Yes, you are. Dilandau was not the best decision you ever made," Merle said. 

"He acted as if he didn't even remember anything that happened in the past colors. He kept babbling about being in a coma for 10 colors," Van said. 

Merle frowned. "I can't imagine Dilandau making up a story that corresponds with his sudden secular amnesia. Doesn't seem like him. I would think that if he didn't want to acknowledge what happened he would simply beat the crap out of you and act like nothing had ever transpired."

"Yeah…but Dilandau's always been a hard cookie to figure out."

"Tough cookie?"

"Sorry. One of Hitomi's sayings."

"Oh." Merle tried to keep her body relaxed. Hitomi's name made her fur stand on end.

"I bet she's wondering why I haven't seen her since we arrived," Van said. He ran his fingers through Merle's hair. 

"We've only been here 15 minutes," Merle pointed out. "And it's midnight."

"So she's probably asleep."

Merle rolled her eyes. "Brilliant deduction."

"I bet Dilandau's still up," Van said, his tone taking on a wistful quality that Merle didn't like. She nipped his leg.

"Ouch!" he cried. "What did you do that for?"

"Sorry, it slipped," Merle said. Van didn't catch her sarcasm.

"Hmm…" Van didn't say anything more about the lost Zaibach boy, but Merle knew he was thinking about him. She rolled onto her back and put her arms behind her head and stared up at her quiet king.

"You have exactly 22 nose hairs," she finally said to break the silence. Van looked down at her with amusement and smiled like his older brother. 

"I don't believe you," he scoffed. He reached out and tickled her stomach. Merle growled as menacingly as possible but dissolved into giggles as she always did.

"Feel better?" she asked when her laughter had abated.

"Yes…that helped. I…no, it didn't. Sorry," Van said, turning his head away. "…I just can't understand him."

Merle sat up. "I don't think that's the problem. No one's ever understood Dilandau so you might as well stop trying. Perhaps you're not understanding _yourself_."

"Don't start turning into my psychologist," Van said. His look was sharp.

"I'm not going to, but that doesn't mean you don't need one," Merle replied. It was time to get down to the nitty-gritty. Nothing was ever going to change if Van was allowed to sink into a confused state of depression.

"Well, Dr. Merle, what in the hell is my problem? Or since you like turning things around, what in the hell's yours?" Van snapped.

Merle wasn't fazed by Van's abrupt turn towards anger. She was used to it. Actually, she was kind of comforted by the familiarity of it. Now was the time to nail him and make him see the light. After all she hadn't read all those psychology texts during her self-imprisonment for no reason.

"The problem here is that you have the emotional state of a five-year-old, which you've had ever since Folken and the Queen disappeared. You lash out in childish anger whenever someone suggests that there might be a problem with you. Van, you always strive to be the perfect person for the ones you care about and you insist on taking on all the responsibility. Granted— " Merle held up a hand as Van opened his mouth to object. "—You did have a lot on your plate during the Great War and the years before them. Your judgment cannot posses a single flaw, and you always have to have things in a crystal clear unshakable view."

"And what does this have to do with Dilandau?" Van interrupted, irritated. 

Merle's eyes flashed. "See? I'm talking about _you_ here. But to answer your question—it has everything to do with it. When Dilandau and you…uh…'met' in Zaibach your view of him was totally wrong. You are no longer a 'perfect' friend to him, obviously."

__

Unless you think attempted murder is a sign of friendship. What do you call that, "tough love"?

Van said nothing. He was soaking in Merle's words.

"The whole point of this," she said slowly, "is that you worked hard at becoming perfect in Dilandau's eyes. He's cast you aside, and you're lashing out. Now all you need to do is make a simple decision: who are you going to be perfect for now? Van, you're going to have to decide for whom you're going to ride that white horse of yours."

Van still said nothing. She had tears in her eyes. She wanted to tell herself she didn't know why, but she did. Van was going to make his decision, and she didn't know if she was going to be at the receiving end of it.

Taking advantage of Van's somewhat dazed state Merle leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. However, this time it wasn't a kitty-ish lick from their childhood. No, Merle made sure she pressed her lips against his smooth cheek and the corner of his mouth, making sure that he felt the difference in this kiss compared to the others. Then she quietly stood and left the room.

~*~

It was a gray land. Fog cloaked the area so thickly that one could reach out and grab a handful. To look into it was like looking through the eyes of a blind man. The humidity was high, but the air was frightfully cold. 

In short, Dilandau didn't like this place. 

His clothes stuck to his skin and made it hard to move. He felt like taking off his jacket, but it was too damn cold. Where in the heck was he anyway? He'd never seen this place before.

"Hey," he called out into the grayness. "Is there anyone out there? What is this place?"

No answer.

"Oookaayy," he said, dragging the word out. _I'm in a foreign place that might or might not have inhabitants, I don't know how I got here, and I can't see a damn thing. Great._

Dilandau felt the air to the left of him whoosh across his face, signaling the movement of something. He turned sharply and heard a low growling noise.

__

It looks like it's going to be another one of those days. He withdrew his sword.

Then suddenly the growling stopped. But there was only a breath of a moment before a slow, snake-like voice replaced it.

__

"**My beautiful creation**," it said, _"**You taste so gggoooodd.**"_

"What?" Dilandau said. The voice came from all around him.

__

"**Oh yes, you little devil. I'll never forget you. My perfect boy, you're all alone.**"

Dilandau began to feel uncomfortable. "Who's there?" he asked.

"**Oh, you know. And even if you pretend you don't…well, I have ways of making you remember.**"

He started to shake. Dilandau didn't know why, but a slow and unstoppable terror suddenly started to creep over his body. The foggy mist seemed to grow darker, thicker.

"What in the hell is this?" he breathed.

__

"**All alone, all alone,**" the voice chanted. _"**But of course there's me. What, does that frighten you?"**_

Dilandau said nothing.

__

"**Yes, I see it does. I see you shake, boy. I remember when I made you shake**. **I remember when I touched you and you trembled**_."_

"Fuck off," Dilandau said, causing the voice to chuckle. His voice was weak. _Why was this happening?_

Suddenly the fog began to swirl slowly around him, clinging to him even more so than before. Frantically he began swatting at the air, trying to cut the mist with his blade. He felt the fog slink around his thigh and he looked down to see the air actually forming into a grayish hand-like shape. Dilandau froze; stunned and unbelieving. Another misty hand snaked across his shoulder and traced a wet finger down his cheek.

Breathing deeply, Dilandau took the last of his resolve and batted the hand away. He began to march forward, searching for the voice. "Okay, where are you! Show yourself! If you don't, I'll kill you, I swear it!"

__

"**Ha. A little late for that.**"

"Oh yeah?" Dilandau said. He stopped and the fog rested on his shoulders. Something slithered across his back. It felt like lips. "Look," he said, feeling weak with fear, "I don't know who you are, but just stay the fuck away from me."

__

"**Oh, you remember me, you pretty monster. How could you ever forget your maker? You always were such the precious little ungrateful thing.**"

The fog crept up his neck.

"Actually," Dilandau replied with mock offhandedness, "I don't remember you at all. And…" he took a breath, "…I don't really give a shit either."

__

"**Doesn't matter.**"

Dilandau frowned, confused. Then he felt the mist creep down into his collar and he gasped. The fog swirled about his shoulders, but it was _inside his jacket._ It felt like it was seeping into his skin. Hastily he unzipped his jacket and flung it to the ground. Immediately the cold bit into his skin, but at least the mist wasn't circulating through his clothes.

"What _are _you? I'm— " Dilandau stopped as the fog suddenly pressed against him. The voice was silent, but the air seemed to solidify around him. A suffocating sensation began to overcome him. He tried to use his sword to cut at the mist, but his limbs wouldn't move.

And then Dilandau _did_ remember something. He remembered what it felt like to be scared beyond reason.

Before the fog closed in upon him completely he heard the voice slink around him:

__

"**Go ahead and scream. No one can hear you. Just like they never heard you before. You're mine, Dilandau. You are my_ beautiful creation._**"

Vainly he pushed at the fog with all his strength, but the air was so heavy and thick that he couldn't breathe. Somehow he let go of his sword. A foreign weak sensation seized his muscles and Dilandau sank slowly through the fog, dropping to his knees. 

And then everything disappeared. 

He caught himself with his hands. The tension in the air was gone. Dilandau fluttered his eyelashes, coming back from the threshold of consciousness. Everywhere he looked was a sea of white. He didn't know where the ground ended and the sky began. Or if there even _was_ a sky.

__

What? Where did that thing go?

Tiredly he slid onto his stomach and closed his eyes to ward off the brightness. He covered his head with his arms

__

What was that? he thought. Some dark corner of his mind trembled, but he couldn't grasp why.

Something light and soft fell down upon his cheek. Dilandau tensed. Another touch came, this time on his bare arm and yet another on his back. _Not again._

Dilandau rolled over as quickly as he could and put a hand on his sword which lay a few inches away. A fluffy whiteness brushed his chin. He grabbed it.

A feather lay in his hand. He looked up. There were feathers everywhere. 

They fell from the sky…wherever that was. All he could see was white on white, but he felt the feathers. They felt like weightless kisses and made him dizzy. He closed his eyes and relaxed once again. His body ached. His lungs felt like they'd been through a paper press.

His fingers straightened slightly and he let go of his sword. However, the minute his touch left the handle the blade was grabbed by another hand and thrown into a place where time and reality did not exist. 

Dilandau knew nothing of this. He felt only the softness of the feathers and took comfort in them.

Until he suddenly felt a touch that was almost equal in lightness to feathers, but not quite so. Lazily he opened his eyes. Ethereal fingers were entwined with his, and another hand was slipping behind his shoulder to help him sit up.

Dilandau sat up quickly. _Very_ quickly.

"Now wha—" he was cut off by a finger being pressed to his lips. Instead of swatting it away, he blinked a couple of times. Slowly a figure began to come into view. Crouching in front of him with a smile on his face, was a young man of sixteen or so. His hair was shaggy and his eyes were large. Snowy white wings protruded from his back. 

There wasn't any color in the boy. A vague pigment here and there, but nothing discernable. The winged young man had a divine quality about him. 

Dilandau was speechless. He'd never seen a creature such as this. 

Suddenly he had an awful feeling in his gut. Perhaps that horrible fog had really killed him. Perhaps this boy was an angel sent to tell him that "Sorry, but we don't accept psychotic bloodstained killers into Heaven."

Dilandau moved the boy's finger away from his lips. "Am I dead?" he asked.

The creature smiled and shook his head. 

"Well that's reassuring," Dilandau said, rubbing his arm. "Where am I?"

The young man slipped behind him and hooked his arms around Dilandau's waist in an effort to help him stand up. Dilandau, however, was in no mood to be touched.

"I can stand up by myself!" he snapped. The boy stepped back, an eyebrow cocked. Dilandau grumbled under his breath and pushed against the ground to stand up. His arms gave out and he tried to stand again.

Only he couldn't. The fog seemed to have taken away all his strength.

"Damn," he muttered. He breathed in deeply, feeling his lungs expand painfully. He wondered if he'd broken a rib. His seemingly celestial comrade crouched to the side of him. Dilandau looked away. He felt an arm slip under his knees and around his back.

"Don't touch me," he warned. The boy ignored him and picked him up, setting him on his feet. 

Dilandau didn't have time (not to mention the energy) to fight back. The winged-boy moved faster than a human did, so it seemed. He looked down at his feet and felt the ground underneath him. Suddenly it seemed so far away and Dilandau felt dizzy. For once he was glad that the boy hadn't let go of his shoulders yet. 

Dilandau blinked slowly. "Where are we?"

The boy looked sad and said nothing.

"How can I get back?" Dilandau asked, moving on.

The boy smiled once again and put a finger to his lips. He then slipped his arm down from Dilandau's shoulders to his waist. Before he could object, Dilandau was lifted off the ground as the young man spread his wings and took to the air.

Now if he had thought he was dizzy before, it was nothing compared to the light-headed feeling he was experiencing now. He grabbed the wrist of his ethereal captor and tentatively raised his other hand to his face to steady himself. In response, the boy wrapped his other arm around Dilandau's shoulders, close to his neck. 

Dilandau started to feel sick. His bruised lungs had trouble breathing.

Close your eyes.

"What?" Dilandau said, putting his hand down from his face. His voice was breathy. A voice had just penetrated through his mind. He looked to the face of the winged-boy. It came again:

You'll feel better if you close your eyes. 

"That's you, isn't it?" Dilandau asked. The boy looked to him and smiled.

Yes. 

Dilandau looked over his shoulder to the creature's wings. "Are you an angel?"

No. You were the angel. Close your eyes and sleep, Dilandau. 

"Not on your life. What do you mean I was—"

The boy raised a hand and touched the side of Dilandau's face. The minute he did so, Dilandau felt overcome with a fatigue. He fought it, but within a second his eyes closed and he relaxed in the young man's grip.

The winged-boy smiled.

~*~

Van was still on the couch. He hadn't moved since Merle had left, and he didn't know if he ever would. She had been so abrupt, so out-of-character. But maybe that was taking it to the extreme; Merle _was_ blunt. The fact was that he'd never seen her as the type of person to analyze a situation.

And get it right.

__

Sort of, he amended. She'd had no idea of how much Dilandau had meant to him. She'd thought he was just a good friend (at the most) and didn't even…

…Just how much _had_ Dilandau meant to him?

"Is it possible…that I loved Dilandau?" Van said slowly, his voice almost too soft to be called a whisper. He'd never really thought of it in those terms. There had been so much fighting to begin with, and after that…_And after that, _Van thought,_ it was simply one of the best times of my life._

Van tried soaking in _this_ new concept. It didn't take very long—he supposed he'd known it all along. He felt a dull ache in his chest, but resolutely brushed it off.

"He never cared," he said. Van thought about Merle's words again. She was right. It was time to decide whom he really loved.

Slowly he rose from the couch and scratched his head. Then he peeked out into the dark hallway. It was pitch-black, but that didn't faze him. He remembered sneaking down the dark passage all those years ago when he used to visit Folken late at night. His big brother used to sigh in his sleep, and occasionally talk. Van loved to sit beside him before he woke up and listen to the weird things Folken would say. Then, when his brother woke (usually to Van's giggling) he would pounce on him and tickle him until he begged for mercy.

Van smiled, remembering. Subtly he wiped a stray tear and stopped. He didn't need to feel along the wall to know where he was. He reached out and turned the doorknob to his room as quietly as he could. He eased it open and peered in.

There were only a few beams of light coming from the moons outside, but it was enough for Van to make out Hitomi's figure on the bed. She was on her side with her knees curled up almost to her chest. Her hair was spread out about her head and the light glanced across it, making it seem as though a halo graced her head.

Van leaned down, took of his boots, then stepped inside. He walked over to her bedside and stood in the shadows with his arms crossed in front of him. He stood that way for several minutes simply looking at her; he didn't think, didn't suppose, and tried to love her.

Her window was open and the wind blew through the room, cold as ice. Hitomi's hair fluttered in the breeze and she shivered. Van padded over to window and shut the glass panes. He then turned and walked back to Hitomi's bedside. 

With shaky hands he reached out and pulled up the covers so that they covered her shoulders as well as her waist. She felt thin and fragile. Feeling braver, Van let a hand wander to her face and he brushed her hair back. He liked the shortness of her honeyed locks. Almost every other girl in Gaea had long hair (save Celena, who had decided to keep her hair at chin-length). 

Hitomi's cheek twitched at Van's touch and he saw the silvery trails of dried tears. The dull ache in his chest increased. 

"I'm sorry," he said aloud. Hitomi stirred. For a second he thought he would be able to escape and that she wouldn't awaken, but then those emerald eyes popped open and gleamed in the moons' light.

"You're back," she said in a tired voice.

Van nodded. He was glad he was still in the shadows.

"How did it go?" she asked. "Was he…"

"Fine. Dilandau…well, he doesn't want anything to do with me," Van said. Hitomi frowned and attempted to sit up but Van waved a hand, saying, "No, it's fine. I'm okay with it. We never got along very well anyway."

__

He never loved me back. 

"I'm so sorry," Hitomi said. 

"Why?" he asked. "You…" he traced a finger down her cheek, "…you were the one who was crying."

Hitomi put her hand over his and closed her eyes. She motioned to the bed. "It smelled like you."

Van crouched down by the bedside and pressed his nose against the side of the mattress. 

"I think it smells more like you," he whispered. Hitomi opened her eyes.

"What do I smell like?" she asked.

__

Not roses, not like home. Only he smelled like roses.

"Good," Van replied. Hitomi smiled and reached out, wrapping her arms around Van's neck. He rose slightly and held her. Carefully he judged his feelings. It felt good to hold her, but it wasn't any different than hugging Celena or Merle. There was a warm familiarity about the embrace.

"I thought you weren't going to come back," Hitomi said softly.

"Why in the world would you think that?" Van asked. 

"I thought that you were…I don't know what I was thinking. I'm just glad you're back. I missed you," Hitomi said.

"I'm sorry," Van said.

"You don't need to be," Hitomi said. She released him and scooted to the far side of the bed. "Here," she said, patting the mattress, "Come here. Lay down and talk to me."

"About what?" Van asked, easing himself onto the bed. He lay on his back.

"Anything," Hitomi replied. She inched a little closer to him.

Van blinked. "Uh…"

"Oh, never mind. I have a better idea," Hitomi said. "How about you ask me question and I'll answer, then I can ask you a question and you have to answer."

"And what's the point of this?" Van asked.

"Because I feel as if I don't know anything about you," Hitomi said. For a second there wasn't a sound. Both of them kept their eyes trained on the ceiling.

Van felt stunned. "Alright. I want to know…uh…what…I want to know what your favorite color is."

"What kind of a question is that?" Hitomi asked exasperatedly.

"A valid one," Van said, relaxing a little.

"Light blue," Hitomi replied. "What's yours?"

"What color are you wearing?" Van replied.

"White."

"Oh. I like black the best."

"Jerk," Hitomi giggled. She rapped him lightly on the chest. Van winced as he felt the cut on his chest. Hitomi felt the bandage under her hand. She stopped giggling.

"Oh I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Hitomi's eyes narrowed. "Did he…did _Dilandau_ do that to you?"

Van turned on his side to face her. "I'm fine, calm down. Yes, he did it. Like I said, our meeting wasn't exactly a friendly one. Actually, I'm pretty lucky—he chucked a dagger at my head during the meeting."

"Really?" Hitomi gasped. 

Van nodded.

"I don't think you should go over to Zaibach anymore," she said.

Van nodded again. "I think that would be wise. Okay, next question."

"It's yours."

"Oh…are you happy here?" Van searched her eyes.

Hitomi bit her lip. "Before I answer that, can I ask my question?"

"Yes."

"Can I kiss you?"

Van blinked, Hitomi watching him. If he said yes, then he would be leading her on, but if he said no, he'd only hurt her. Then again…a kiss could be the final test to find out how he felt about her.

"Yes," he said finally.

Hitomi moved in close to him and leaned against him, her manner shy. He closed his eyes before her lips met his, but when they did he responded instantaneously. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. 

__

Dilandau…Van thought. He jerked back.

"Sorry," he said. He let her go.

Hitomi's eyes were wide. "It's…fine. I…I…did I do something?"

"No," Van said. Gods he was confused now. 

"Did you, uh, like it then?" Hitomi asked, blushing. Her innocence was a sharp contrast to Dilandau's knowing, cunning manner.

__

And did I like that cunning manner?

Time froze as Van thought.

He loved Dilandau. He knew that. But, didn't he also love Hitomi? Isn't that how that whole blasted war was won? Sure, it wasn't the passionate, mind-blowing, experience he felt whenever Dilandau was within 25 meters of him, but he knew that he cared deeply for the girl with the emerald eyes; the girl who he'd gone to the moons and back for.

Wasn't that enough? 

"Yes," he answered, finally. Van smiled a shaky grin. "Yes."

"Thank God," Hitomi said, her voice flowing with relief. She slid over to him and curled against him, pressing her hands against his back. She didn't look at him; instead she simply sighed and kissed his collarbone. Van, a little dazed, kissed the top of her head in reply. They lay there for a moment until he finally broke the silence:

"You never answered my question. Are you happy?"

Hitomi smiled. "Yes."

"Good," Van said. 

Hitomi breathed in deeply. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Yeah," Van said with a smile. "In fact I do."

~*~

Soon the sleepy and numb feeling left Dilandau's body and he slowly regained consciousness. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, feeling _very_ groggy.

Morning. 

Dilandau stiffened in surprise. He'd forgotten about his angelic comrade. He realized that he was still being carried to some new and equally weird place as the land he had come from.

"How can you tell if it's morning?" Dilandau asked, looking out into the whiteness.

I can. 

"I asked how," Dilandau said, irritated. However, he didn't pursue the question.

We're almost there. 

Dilandau frowned. "Where?" 

You asked to go back. I'm taking you. 

Dilandau nodded and said nothing. Suddenly he felt the air shift around him, and he realized the young man was taking him down towards the ground. The wind whipped at his face and Dilandau put up a hand to shield his eyes as the radiant whiteness gleamed once, then changed into a soft blue. Below him he could see the brown and green land with it's many trees and mountaintops. 

As the ground rushed up at him, Dilandau began to feel a little sick to his stomach and he closed his eyes. The arm around his waist tightened and he sensed the immediacy of the landing. He heard the great _fwap_ sound of the creature's wings and then his feet touched solid ground.

He opened his eyes. All around him was a forest of evergreen trees. They looked extremely familiar to him, but he didn't know why. 

Here we are. 

"This isn't Zaibach," Dilandau said, realizing that the young man still hadn't let go of him. He twisted out of the boy's grasp.

You never said Zaibach. You said you wanted to go back. 

Dilandau spun around. "What do you mean by—oh. What happened to you?"

The young man standing before was not the ethereal creature he had been a few moments ago. No, this boy was no longer translucent; in fact, he seemed to be bursting with color. He had dark hair and large eyes that were mostly cinnamon in color. He wore a shirt of red and pants the color of wheat.

Ah, your memory is coming back, Angel. 

"Van," Dilandau said, his voice airy with amazement. He shook his head. "What in the hell is going on here?"

I brought you back to what you lost. 

"The only thing I've seemed to have lost is my sanity. What is this? A dream?" Dilandau asked. Van shook his head.

Unfortunately, no. 

"I don't believe you," Dilandau said, crossing his arms. He wished for a sword.

Van frowned. Here they come. 

"Who?" Dilandau asked. He turned around. Behind him, marching like an army of zombies, were his Dragonslayers. Some were from the first regiment, every one of them bleeding and shimmering like phantoms. The others, the second crop, seemed worldlier, but they lurched toward him like demented puppets.

Dilandau was transfixed by the sight of his men. "Gatti…Chesta…Dalet. _Migel_?"

Do you want to back to that? To that violent, cold, and _lonely_ world? 

The Dragonslayers simultaneously raised their hands and reached towards their commander. Dilandau suddenly felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

"No," he said, backing away from the soldiers. The boys' familiar faces suddenly seemed monstrous. He supposed they were monsters; after all, hadn't he made them that way?

Van put a hand on Dilandau's shoulder. 

Then don't forget this Dilandau. Remember everything and forget nothing. 

"Remember what?" Dilandau asked desperately. The Dragonslayers had reached him and their cold hands pulled at his clothing and skin, dragging him into their ominous circle.

I'm sorry, Dilandau. I'm so sorry. 

Dilandau tried to fight against the soldiers, but no matter how hard he fought or how loud his orders were shouted the boys still held on. He managed to catch of a glimpse of Van over his shoulder. 

He was crying.

~*~ 

Merle pressed an ear against the door. Van's voice echoed through the thick wooden slab and pricked at her heart.

"I'm fine, calm down. Yes, he did it. Like I said, our meeting wasn't exactly a friendly one. Actually, I'm pretty lucky—he chucked a dagger at my head during the meeting."

__

Jerk. Ooh, if I could get my claws into him. I'd kill him. I'd start by ripping his fingernails and toenails off and then move up to skinning his sorry ass. And then—what did she just ask?

"Yes," Van said. The door muffled his voice, but Merle heard the uncertainty in it. There was a long moment of silence and she pressed her ear closer to the door, trying to figure out what was going on. There was a few mumbled words, but she couldn't make them out.

Finally Van spoke again: "You never answered my question. Are you happy?"

"Yes," came Hitomi's voice.

"Good," Van said. 

Merle furrowed her brow. What question had Van asked? She had to stop thinking and pay attention to what was going on.

"Do you have any more questions?" Hitomi asked.

"Yeah," she heard Van say, "In fact I do."

"What?" Hitomi said. The bed squeaked and Merle opened her ears. There were footsteps on the floor. They sounded like Van's. 

__

What is he doing?

"Hitomi Kanzaki," Van said, his voice low, "Will you marry me?"

~*~

__

"Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in

Don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again

I don't want to run away from this

I know that I just don't need this

'Cause I cannot stand still

I can't be this unsturdy

This cannot be happening

…What is real?

Just a dream."

~ Lifehouse

~*~

****

A/N: If it seems as if there is a lot of dying going around my little corner of the world, that's because there is. No, I'm not performing ritual animal sacrifice for my devilish ideas…it simply seems as if there has been a lot of tragedy in my life lately. I've lost a lot in a relatively short period of time and I'm rather upset so I apologize if the quality of my work is deteriorating. 

~*~


	16. Elijah

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Fifteen: Preparation

****

A/N: First off, I would like to dedicate this lovely chapter to the equally lovely Zika_Silver1. She is the reason this story continues along on its merry little way. As a bit of a warning you must pardon me, for the only wedding ceremony I know is an American Christian fanfare of sorts. I apologize for not being a culture-savvy chica. Please forgive me for my ignorance! 

~*~

Slowly, laboriously, and _very_ reluctantly Dilandau opened his eyes. It was quite possibly the hardest thing he had ever done. He was lying in the hospital wing of the capitol building. He hated this room; it didn't have any windows. The clock on the wall said 3:17 a.m.

He'd had the strangest dream. He couldn't remember it very well, but it had to do with a fog made of stone and a boy with wings. The funny thing was that the boy had called him "Angel."

As Dilandau tried to clear his mind, a strident shrieking sound filled the room. He squeezed his eyes shut as pain throbbed through his sore head.

"Shh!" said a voice. "Do you want to wake _him _?"

"I'm sorry," replied another voice, this one deeper, "I'm nervous."

Dilandau recognized the voices, but fumbled with the names. After a moment he gave up. Whoever they were, he just hoped they stayed quiet. He felt like going back to sleep. 

Suddenly a soft and airy sound broke through air. It sounded like a whistle, but gentler, like a flute. It trembled through air as it played a soothing melody. Dilandau recognized it as a tune from Egzardia, a country known for its beautiful highland music.

Beautiful or not, he wanted to sleep. He was just about to yell at the musician when the song stopped.

"That was amazing," whispered a voice. Dilandau finally placed it: Cedric.

"Thanks," said the flautist. This one was a Dragonslayer as well; his name was Rosh.

Another few notes played through the air.

"Shut up!" Dilandau yelled.

The air went deathly still. Dilandau opened his eyes again, this time finding it much easier than before. Through slightly blurred vision he saw the two figures of his Dragonslayers. Neither had on his armor, and Rosh's long black hair was unkempt and flowing down his shoulders. He held the flute an inch away from his lips.

"Sir!" Cedric said. "Are you alright?"

The lights were bright. Dilandau groaned and covered his eyes with an arm. "No. What time is it?"

"3:47 in the morning. Would you like me to play for you some more, sir?" Rosh asked, his accent thick.

"Cedric," Dilandau said, "Tell me that I did not allow a flute player into the Dragonslayers."

"Uh…I…"

"No Dilandau-sama," cut in Rosh, "You didn't." 

Dilandau lifted his arm. The flute was gone. He smiled. "I like that Rosh. Now both of you get out of my sight. I don't need to be babysat."

"Sir?" said the boys in unison.

Dilandau scowled. "Don't make me repeat myself. Send in the nurse while you're at it."

"Yes, sir!" said Cedric and Rosh. The two rose and left. Dilandau saw a slender wooden flute tucked under the latter boy's arm. He closed his eyes and waited for the nurse.

He didn't have to wait long. Within a minute or two he heard the soft padding of the woman's footsteps.

"Dilandau-sama?" asked a small timid voice. Dilandau opened his eyes and looked at the nurse. He was surprised—she was a small dark little waif-like thing. He didn't even know people could be that frail.

"You're the nurse?" he asked, checking. 

"Yes, sir," said the child, trembling. "You asked for me?"

"What's the diagnosis?" he asked. "And be quick."

The waif stopped shaking. "You suffer from a semi-serious concussion, a few cracked ribs, and a rather nasty cut on your left shoulder. Other than that you numerous scratches and bruises."

"I suffer from nothing. When will I be back on my feet?" Dilandau said.

"Two weeks, minimum," said the nurse.

"One," Dilandau amended. "Who else was brought in here?"

"No one, sir," said the nurse.

Dilandau blinked. "I find that hard to believe but not improbable. What's your name?"

"My name?" said the girl, startled. Dilandau gave her a dark look. "Oh, sorry, Dilandau-sama. My name is Noel."

"Interesting. Goodbye Noel, you won't see me again," he said. Dilandau sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. His chest ached with pain and his head swam, but he let none of this show. Instead he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. 

And then sat back down on the bed. 

"Are you all right, sir?" asked Noel. She made a move to assist him, but was too afraid to follow through.

Dilandau waited a second until his head cleared. Then he stood up again, waited for the world to stop spinning, and then answered her: "I'm fine." 

"Dilandau-sama, I…you mustn't leave! Your condition is very serious," Noel pleaded.

"Do not tell me what to do," Dilandau said, ignoring her concern. "I would leave now, if I were you."

Looking pale, Noel curtsied (an annoying and outdated practice) and left the room. Dilandau took a few deep breaths.

"Two weeks, my ass," he muttered. He began a tottery but determined trek to his rooms. Why was the sick bay on the far end of the Dragonslayers' barracks?

Halfway through he stopped for a second and he couldn't remember where he was. Why was he in this hallway? What was he doing? Dilandau felt a more than a little panicked, but held his ground and shook his head a few times. This didn't do anything except make him feel incredibly nauseous, but after a moment his wits returned to him and he continued. 

As he closed the door to his room and locked it, he collapsed on his bed. He knew that his condition was serious. Jeez, he'd just had a room fall on his head. But he wasn't about to let some idiotic quack take care of him. He'd had many years of medical training and knew how to take care of most problems. 

Dilandau was not going to let anyone take care of him. He took care of people (in one way or another). 

Besides, in two weeks who knew what Van would be doing?

~*~

Merle walked through the halls in a daze. It was hard to keep focused on where she was going, so she simply trudged onward, seeing and hearing nothing.

Hitomi had said yes. 

Merle had waited for her heart to drop when she heard that word, but it hadn't happened. Then room had gotten very quiet, and she had silently left her position by the door.

It was strange; she didn't feel as sad and upset as she thought she would have. She supposed it was because she already knew that Van would choose Hitomi. He'd never even thought of her as an option. Merle knew that she would forever be his little sister and nothing more. 

How clear it was to her now.

"Merle, could you come here?" Celena's voice cut through the darkness.

Merle stopped. She was surprised that the girl had known she was walking through the halls; her paws never made a sound.

"Celena, this isn't a good time. It's 4:00 in the morning," Merle said, looking towards the partially open door that led to Celena's room. The faint scent of roses wafted through the opening.

"Please? Dilandau's really hurt," the girl replied. She sounded weak.

"Good," Merle replied. Then she realized what the implications of that were She bounded into Celena's room. The girl was lying on her bed with an arm covering her eyes. She was wearing sparring clothing that looked too big for her.

"What's wrong? Are you all right?" Merle asked, stepping closer.

"It hurts to breathe," Celena replied. "It scares me."

"Oh, don't be scared," Merle said. "Nothing can hurt you. What can I do to help?"

"I don't know," Celena said. She lifted her arm and looked at the ceiling.

Merle sat down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry. Do you want an ice pack? Or perhaps a hot water bottle?"

Celena laughed, then groaned. "Those things are totally different."

"He should take better care of himself," Merle said.

"He will. He had training in the army," Celena said.

"Well then you should feel better in no time," Merle said. "I think the best thing to do for the moment would be to go to sleep. I'm sure you'll feel better in the morning."

"I think," Celena swallowed thickly as pain washed over her, "You will too." Merle frowned.

"What?" she asked.

"You have tearstains on your face. I hope you feel better tomorrow," Celena said.

Merle smiled. She loved this girl. "Thank you. I feel better already."

"Good. And don't be upset with Dilandau…he can't help it," Celena replied, closing her eyes.

"Can't help it? What?" she asked

Celena breathed in deeply. "I just thought you should know."

"Know what?" Merle whispered, leaning in closely. 

"You know," Celena whispered, waving her hand to disregard Merle's question, "I miss him."

Merle didn't know what to say to that. Dilandau had been undoubtedly the most destructive thing she'd ever laid eyes on and she hated him for that. Actually, it was hate derived from jealousy. Dilandau had waltzed (or rather, "pounded") his way into Van's life and her king had accepted him readily. She didn't understand it. Van used to be so cold to other people; so abrasive. He was only the warm caring person when he was around her. It was as if he was saving the best of his personality for _her. _Now he shared it with everybody. Including psychotic maniacs, which only hurt him.

"I'm sorry," Merle said lamely.

"He's hurting and I'm not there," Celena continued. She sat up with her face in her hands. A tear spilled through her fingers.

Merle slipped her arm around the girl's shoulders. "Shh. I'm sure he'll be fine."

"I'm not so sure this time," Celena said. "He doesn't remember me. He doesn't let me in."

"What do you mean?" Merle asked. This girl was getting weirder all the time.

"If I think about it, I can talk to him without saying anything. He never acts like he knows what's going on, but I know he does. He feels it," Celena explained.

"Really?" Merle was a little doubtful.

Celena moved her hands away from her face and hugged her chest. "Yes."

"I'm sure Dilandau still remembers you," Merle whispered in Celena's ear. "I'm even sure he still loves you. He just does it in his own…way." 

She was going to say "twisted way," but decided against it.

"Like how Van loves you?" Celena asked.

Merle froze, then nodded. "Yes, the way Van loves me."

"Then he'll remember," Celena said.

Merle, though a little stunned, found herself wishing Dilandau _would_ remember. Celena wiped her face and gently lay back down on the bed. Merle mechanically tucked her in.

Celena grabbed Merle's hand as she turned to go. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

Merle paused. "Yes."

"Thank you," Celena said, sighing. Merle hopped up on the bed and curled cat-style at the bottom of the bed. 

"No," she whispered, just as Celena was falling asleep. "Thank you."

~*~

Never in his life had Van thought that there were so many details to a wedding. For crying out loud, what the hell was going on here? Flowers, dresses, ushers, a Matron of Honor, and a Best Man? And then there was that annoying little girl who carried around a basket of flower petals and tossed them all over the hall, making a grand mess of things. Not to mention the boy who carried the _ring_. First of all, Van didn't even understand the meaning of the rings, but now he had to place a highly valuable item in the hands of a six-year-old boy? 

Insanity. Utter and total insanity.

"Nonsense," said Hitomi upon hearing Van's grievances. She had been fluttering around the hall for the past two days ordering this, arranging that, and making him feel dizzy.

But she was happy, and that's really what counted. 

Merle had agreed to be her Matron of Honor and Celena (along with Van's reluctant female advisors Verdi and Rachel) were going to have the role of bridesmaids, whatever those were. _He_ was still in search of a Best Man. Undoubtedly the role would eventually go to Natsu. The lout could just stand there and look important (he was good at that).

Everything was going to take place in a week.

Hitomi didn't like to take her time. She'd already picked out her wedding dress (or it was being made, sewed, fitted, whatever). All he really knew was that he couldn't see it until the wedding, which was quite possibly the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard of in his life. Who would want to be surprised on their wedding day? He didn't wasn't even allowed to know what color it was. He had said she would look lovely in green, but Hitomi had given him the oddest look…

Anyway, life was grand. He had announced the engagement to the country two days ago, and since then the people had been rejoicing like you wouldn't believe. There was dancing, games, and celebrations all the time. Van was worried that over half of the kingdom was drunk.

Couldn't he just have gotten privately married to her and skipped this "wedding" nonsense?

"Oh Vaaaaan!" Hitomi's voice broke through his thoughts. He was standing in Folken's bedroom, being fitted for…a…what was it called? Oh, a tuxedo (what an idiotic contraption. What was wrong with a clean shirt and pants? Perhaps he could put on some ceremonial armor). 

"Yes?" he answered, craning his neck to see. The tailor squeaked and told him to stop moving. Van ignored him.

Hitomi popped her head in. "Darling, do you think we should have all roses at the wedding? Celena said that would be delightful and she'd help with everything. I don't know though, I kind of like daisies and lilies. Daisies are so nice and friendly. Roses are such…heavy flowers and lilies are simply elegant looking. What do you think?"

Van thought frantically to try and remember what the difference was between a daisy and a lily. 

Finally he gave up and said, "How about we just go without the flowers?"

Hitomi grinned. "You're so silly. Now come on, what do you really think?"

"I like tulips," Van offered, copping out of the situation. He knew two different kinds of flowers, and those were tulips and roses. His mother had liked tulips. So had Folken. Van knew that tulips had fewer petals then roses.

"Tulips are romantic as well! You're brilliant!" Hitomi stepped inside and kissed him lightly. The tailor made another squeaking noise and Van felt a pin stick deep into his side.

"Glad to help. Tell Celena I hope she's feeling better!" he called out to Hitomi as she flitted out the door.

Hitomi's voice came floating back. "I will!"

Van looked down at his tailor. "Are you almost done?"

"Don't be pushy," said the tailor. "You're the one who had to have this outrageous outfit."

Van rolled his eyes. "Tell me, did you ever have to go through with this?"

"No. You're the one with the girl from the Mystic Moon who has all these weird customs. All I had to do was say, 'Hey, will you be my wife?' and she said yes, and it was over and done with until we divorced two and half months after it," the tailor said. He stuck another pin into Van's waist. 

"Good grief," said Van. This was not looking promising.

Later that night Hitomi sneaked into his room. She came in quietly but still managed to wake him up. As she slipped under the covers he pretended to be asleep for her benefit.

That is, of course, until she began tickling him.

"Hey!" he said. "If you're going to sneak in my bedroom and wake me up you could at least have the decency not to tickle me."

Hitomi smiled and hugged him, resting her head on his chest. "I'm sorry, oh grumpy one."

"I'm not grumpy," Van mumbled.

"I know," Hitomi said. She began tracing circles on his bare shoulder. "Are you sure you're okay with all these wedding plans? I know you don't like them—"

"I like them," Van interrupted, "I just don't understand them. There's a difference."

"Oh." Hitomi was quiet for a while. Van looked out the window towards the moons and thought of Ruhm. Perhaps _he _could be his Best Man. Then again, Ruhm would probably think him an idiot for getting married in the first place.

"You know, everything's so different now," Hitomi said. Her breath was warm on his skin.

"What do you mean?" Van asked.

"When we first met everything was incredibly dramatic. There was never a day when something historic or epic was taking place," Hitomi said. "I kind of miss it."

Van frowned. "I don't. I like waking up and not thinking that this could easily by my last day on Gaea."

"Last day on Gaea," Hitomi echoed. She slid up so that she was eye to eye with him. "Do you think that I can stay here forever? Do you think Fate will let me?"

"I thought you didn't believe in Fate," Van pointed out. A sense of foreboding rumbled in his stomach.

"I have my doubts sometimes. I think there's a possibility of your life being pre-planned. Perhaps there is a purpose you have on the planet. You're supposed to change this, have an effect on that. For instance, maybe you're destined for one person and one person only. Fate has made you a perfect match," Hitomi said.

"And this means…" Van tried to see the point.

"Think of the power! How many billions of years, and billions of people that are long since dead, still alive, or not born yet? Anyone of them could be your match. I think that if you are lucky enough to find that person, than _nothing_ can separate you," Hitomi said. She paused. "I believe that you are my perfect match, Van. And if that's so, then I'll be able to stay forever. I guess I just…I just want to say…"

Van knew what was coming. And he wasn't going to like it.

So he stopped it in the most effective way possible. He leaned over and kissed Hitomi hard, almost bruising her lips. 

__

Don't say you love me. I can't say it back. Not in the way you want.

And for a quick second, a vision of Folken flitted through his mind. He was in full Strategos garb, and pressed against his sides were two pretty catgirls, hugging him as if their life depended on it. Suddenly Van understood it all.

"Shh…" he said. "Let's not talk about Fate or anything linked to that. I don't want to take any risks."

It was halfway true. Yes, it was a purposeful misinterpretation, but he really did _not_ want to mess with Fate. She was a temperamental thing.

"I…" Hitomi looked a little disappointed, then smoothed out her face, "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am," Van replied with forced offhandedness. Gently he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Now unless you want to spark some major gossip-mongering, I suggest you get your pretty little self back to bed."

Hitomi grinned. "It sounds like you're trying to get rid of me."

__

I am.

"No, I just know that you have a very full couple of days and so do I. And unlike you, I desperately need my beauty sleep," he said. Gods, it was so much easier to be humorous now. He'd never been this funny in his life. Now jokes and good-humor seemed to fall from his lips like rain.

"Alright," Hitomi sighed. She kissed his forehead and gracefully rose from the bed. Tossing him a look over her shoulder she said, "Sweet dreams Van."

"Same to you," he replied, already closing his eyes. In a detached yet still painful manner, he wondered what Dilandau was doing now.

~*~

"I've been summoned?" Dilandau asked of the young pageboy in front of him.

"Uh…yes, Dilandau-sama. His Majesty would like to speak with you," said the scared boy.

__

I'll bet he does.

"Whatever," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He shut the door in the page's face. The boy had had the most unruly mop of black hair. It reminded him of—

"DAMN IT!" 

__

I am not _going to think about him! _Dilandau stalked over to his bathroom and turned on the water to ice cold. He splashed his face with some of the refreshing liquid. He smiled as he felt the gash on his left shoulder stretch; the pain took his mind off of other things. He raised a hand and gently pressed down on the white bandage where the wound lay beneath. His grin widened as the pristine gauze was soiled in crimson.

__

A monster's blood, he thought, feeling more wicked than usual. _I wonder what Van's blood would look like. What color does an angel bleed?_

"DAMN IT!"

Dilandau ripped his hand away from the bandage. Where had _that _thought come from? Van an angel? _My ass._

Frowning and breathing deeply, Dilandau walked over to a chair where his jacket hung, carelessly thrown there out of laziness from the previous night. He shrugged it on, ignoring the discomfort of his cracked ribs. Absently he ran a finger down his right cheek and stepped out of the door.

This had to stop. He could not keep thinking this…this…_shit,_ he thought. Dilandau gritted his teeth. He'd never felt so unsettled in his life. No matter what he was doing, where he was, or whom he was talking too, the image of a dark-eyed king kept creeping into his mind. Those mahogany irises haunted him, and what scare—annoyed Dilandau was how they held no malice; there wasn't any hate to be seen in Van's gaze. 

His daydreams were becoming increasingly weird—there was one where he was standing in the middle of a garden, bow in hand, aiming at a tall dark-haired man. He'd shoot, nailing his target. When he'd move to claim his prize, he'd look down and realize he was in a dress. _What the hell?_ And then there was that one about riding through the forest, the pressure of someone's arms around his waist. He couldn't remember who was…wait, what did remembering have anything to do with it?

Goddamn dream. What had that little angel thing meant anyway? What was he supposed to remember? Why the hell was he even concerned with all of this?

Dilandau growled in the back of his throat. Banishing all unnecessary thoughts, he pushed through the doors that led to he throne room. With unconcealed reluctance he bowed before Adelphos. As usual, he rose before being recognized. He could have sworn he saw one of the Madoushi smile from the shadows. For unexplainable reasons he felt very off-centered at the action. 

__

I need to get out of here for awhile. Maybe I'll go…away. Far away.

"Oh, good to see you Dilandau," Adelphos said. He looked superior and smug beyond words. 

"Likewise," Dilandau said, his sarcasm dripping from each letter.

"How are your injuries?"

"Gone," he lied. "Let's cut the crap. What do you want?"

Adelphos shifted uncomfortably. "I have concerns regarding your…uh...training of the Dragonslayers. I wasn't aware that the destruction of entire training halls was necessary in preparation for warfare."

"War is chaotic. I want my soldiers trained for any situation," Dilandau replied with a smirk.

"If that is necessary, then I wonder at what kind of battles you're going to be engaging in. From now on, Dilandau, I don't want any Zaibach facilities damaged to such an extent," Adelphos said.

Dilandau seethed. Damned bastard was getting downright cocky.

"I was given permission to train my regiment in any way I see fit," Dilandau replied. Adelphos opened his mouth to say something but the silver-haired captain pressed on. "But, since this training 'requires' the inevitable destruction of Zaibach property, I will make adjustments and solve the problem that _will_ keep us both satisfied."

"What do you mean?" Adelphos had gone from smug to suspicious.

"While the training hall is being rebuilt, I plan on taking my Dragonslayers on a camping trip. I am going to take all my men into the outskirts of Zaibach, far away from civilization and the restrictions that come with it. There I will teach them every survival technique known to man," Dilandau said.

Adelphos opened his mouth again, then shut it. It was obvious he was desperately trying to come up with an excuse to keep Dilandau in the capitol. The pale young man smirked; the emperor wasn't going to win this one. Time to secure the deal.

"Emperor Adelphos, my men are all from the city. None of them have ever experienced the brutality of the outdoors. You know how big a weakness this is. My men are sheltered. I _will not_ have coddled soldiers. If you want Dragonslayers, ones worthy and capable of warfare and _protection of the throne_, then they must have this training. Your Highness, do you understand my point?"

Adelphos blinked rapidly. "Y-yes."

"Then I have your permission?" Dilandau said. He tried to keep from gloating.

"Yes," Adelphos said. He was defeated and he knew it. One of the Madoushi hissed.

"Good," Dilandau said. He turned and left the throne room. He marched quickly in the direction of the simulator room. Time to tell the boys about their little adventure.

~*~

Van awoke on the morning of his wedding day with a sick feeling in his stomach. _Argh…jitters. Hate the little buggers_. Feeling slightly weak, he walked over to his bathroom and splashed water on his face. He poked his head out of the door and checked the time—it was 8:00 a.m. He still had two hours before the ceremony. Foregoing breakfast, he popped his toothbrush in his mouth and scrubbed at his teeth until he thought enamel was bleeding.

Apathy, he decided, was a good word for how he was feeling. Hopefully that was normal…he didn't know; he'd never been married before.

Slowly he discarded his clothing and shuffled over to the shower. He rubbed his disgruntled stomach and turned on the water. He stepped into the tub, slipping past the curtain. He felt the warm water hit his face, his view on the world dreamlike. 

The sick feeling in his stomach grew to a sting, and his eyes began to itch.

__

Overwhelming, _that's a good word too._

Van sat down in the corner of the tub and hid his face in his hands.

~*~

Leitken was _not_ pleased. For three days he'd been running around in the unforgiving Fanelian forest, and he'd eaten…well, not much. Dilandau hadn't allowed the Dragonslayers to bring any supplies with them except for their armor, swords, and water caskets. Their commander would leave them in the morning to do whatever violent psychotic geniuses do during the day, and come back to see how they'd done at about 7:00 at night. Then he'd proceed to teach them actual survival techniques.

Needless to say, Leitken hadn't been doing very well. Rabbits had proven to be smart, calculating creatures that he'd majorly underestimated. Luckily Leitken was a scholarly individual. He'd been running around for the past couple of days munching on whatever edible plants he could find. However, the indigestion most of the weeds and whatnot gave him was severe enough to be lethal. 

Today he was trying fishing—with his sword. There was a small pond a half a mile from camp. So far he'd managed to catch a lot of algae and completely drench his body. 

Leitken heaved a heavy sigh. What was really annoying about this entire business was that the fish seemed to know that he couldn't catch them, and kept swimming around him, their little scaled bodies gliding around his legs and rubbing his toes. He closed one eye, stuck his tongue out in concentration, and took aim. 

"What in the hell are you doing?" 

Leitken whirled around at the sound of his commander's voice. "Fishing, sir."

Dilandau stood before him, his armor replaced with a hooded black cloak. The pale young man snorted. He waded up to Leitken and looked down at the fish. Suddenly his arm shot out into the water. 

Dilandau stood and held up a silvery fish. "Remember how water bends light. It throws images, making the fish appear at places they aren't. Aim lower, towards the belly. And don't use your sword—it's too large and messy. Use either your hands or a small spear."

"Yes, sir," said Leitken, awed and flabbergasted. Dilandau put the gasping fish back in the water. 

"Go back to the camp. There you will find your fellow slayers skinning a deer. I expect you to help them. I have to go away for a bit. While I am gone you and Cedric are in charge," Dilandau said. 

Leitken nodded. "Yes, sir."

The violet-haired slayer marched out of the pond. Dilandau, with is usual arrogant grace, followed him and then turned sharply to his right. Leitken watched him go. As his commander moved into the trees Leitken noticed a shadow stir, then fall into step with him.

Leitken sheathed his sword and took off after Dilandau.

~*~

****

A/N: Snicker snack, how dull. Oh well. Guess I get to write an exciting next part. I apologize for the dreariness of this piece as of late. It seems that I've lost a lot of interest in Tenkuu no Escaflowne. I've exhausted my obsession, I suppose. I am now in the throes of a Gundam Wing obsession. You know, I went in to that series thinking, 'Okay, I _won't_ become a Duo-obsessed maniac like everyone else and I'm going to do my damndest to like Relena.'

****

Duo: Really? Why in the world would you want to do something like that?

****

rainjewel: I don't know…it doesn't matter anyway, it obviously didn't work! My computer monitor is covered with pictures of little Duo-kun and I listen to "Kitto OK" on a daily basis. And for the record, the name of my Jeep is officially "Deathscythe." And every single Gwing fic I've written has Duo in it.

****

Duo: What can I say, I'm irresistible! Anyway, it's about time you got over that one-armed crying dude. 

****

Folken: HEY! It's a tattoo! I was drunk! I can explain!

****

rainjewel: Waitasec, I haven't gotten _that_ far. Obviously you didn't notice me crying on Feb. 17, moaning on how Folkie's now been dead for 6 years and he would have been 31. Not like I keep a record or anything…wait, drunk? Folkie drunk? That sounds interesting. I can't picture it though. Quite beyond my comprehension. 

****

Heero: Speaking of things beyond comprehension, what in the hell do you mean by 1x2?

****

rainjewel: *blushes* Uh…Duo? You wanna take this one?

****

Duo: Hey, you think I want an automatic shoved up my nose? I don't _think_ so.

****

Wufei: That's because you are weak! You are an ONNA!

****

rainjewel: Can't you ever say that without using all caps?

****

Wufei: Quiet, ONNA.

****

rainjewel: That's it, Wuffers! You're going DOWN! *whips out Draco Malfoy's wand*

****

Draco: I was wondering where that went.

****

rainjewel: WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!

****

Wufei: *floating* What the F@#%??!!! INJUSTICE!

****

rainjewel: *ties string to Wufei's leg* Look! A Wuffers balloon! *runs*

****

Wufei: AAIIIEEE!!!!

****

Duo: Hey Wu-bear, I can see your skivvies!

~*~


	17. Bruce Wayne

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Sixteen: All Dressed In Blood

****

Disclaimer: What do you mean, disclaimer? I OWN EVERYTHING! MWAHAHAHA!

****

A/N: I dedicate this chapter to my dearest Aunt Bobbi and Zeke. I will hold you both in my heart forever. Yes, more deaths in rainjewel land. What the hell is going on around here? 

Oh, miets are the equivalent of 30 seconds. Remember when Hitomi passes out in episode 15 or so, and Millerna says, "It's been three miets…?" Yeah, I checked in on that. Whee, Gaea is a lot of fun to learn about. Damn, if Escaflowne were a class, I'd have an A++.

~*~

Hitomi smiled to herself as she sat in the carriage. In a few moments (or, miets, she corrected herself) she would be walking down the aisle, where she would meet up with Van, and then they would be married. Marriage—what an absolutely colossal thought. She had never even considered the possibility of marriage before. She was going to go off to college, get a degree in psychology and be on the track team. She was going to get a decent, high-paying job and _then_ find a husband.

"I haven't even finished high school," she whispered to herself. The words made her shiver.

Hitomi shrugged. Van was worth it, wasn't he? She was going to be _queen_. Queen of a land that worshipped her, a land where she could have a huge impact on the people and better the world. Granted, it wasn't _her_ world, but Gaea was better than Earth any old day.

She wished her parents could be here. Hitomi had always dreamed of her mother sitting amongst the tailors, arguing with them over how they were putting the dress together. Her beautiful mother who loved her so; the mother she had left without a thought. Hitomi thought of her father walking her down the aisle in a full tuxedo, handing her off to Van, the two exchanging glances—her father's full of warning, Van's full of understanding. 

Hitomi laughed, thinking at how her brother would hate the ceremony. It would be too long for him. He would want to get back home and play with his action figures and watch another dumb episode of Pokemon. Gods she hated anime.

"But I _am_ happy," she said, and she meant it. Hitomi knew that from the moment she arrived on Gaea she wanted nothing but to be with Van and his people. She would give anything to be allowed to stand by his side.

She sighed, and looked down to her dress once again. It was fabric made from the root of a Fanelia plant—it was as soft as gossamer, which surprised her. It had been dyed a pale, pale ivory. A full skirt bloomed out at her hips, small beads embroidered in an intricate web-like design. The top was cut to fit her body like a glove, a romantic ballerina neck showing her delicate shoulders. Small, glassy jewels covered every inch of the top. The arms were held down by a small ring of fabric looped around her finger, creating an old-fashioned v-shape on the back of her hand.

On her head was a small gold circlet with a gauzy veil attached to it. As the coach lurched to a stop, she folded it down over her face. Out of the small window she could see the huge masses of people. Above them loomed the kneeling form of Escaflowne.

Hitomi had proposed that they be married in the shrine. The priest could preside over them in front of the ivory guymelef that had saved their lives and brought them together. And perhaps she could undo the pain she'd caused when she left him, at this very spot. Perhaps the vows of marriage could tie them together.

The door to the carriage opened. Hitomi peered into the glaring sunshine.

Dryden's jovial smirk met her look. "Hello there, Hitomi! You're certainly a sight for sore eyes!"

"Dryden?" she asked in confusion, taking his offered hand. He guided her to the ground. His hair was down and his glasses gone. Obviously he was going to give her away. She thought Nachu, or whatever that rock of a man's name was, was going to lead her down the aisle. "I thought you were in hiding."

"What?" Dryden said, raising a shaggy eyebrow. He chuckled, slipping Hitomi's small arm through his. "That was a long time ago! Millerna was a little…fanatical. She's calmed down a bit."

Hitomi's stomach lurched, catching sight of Millerna sitting to the right of the aisle. She was wearing pants. Eries was with her, her hair down in public. 

"Steady now," Dryden murmured, leading her down a white carpet while the bridesmaids fell in step behind her. Van stood at the end of the pale aisle, wearing a tuxedo and a crown on his head. Hitomi had never seen him look so uncomfortable.

Hitomi plastered a smile to her face. "Dryden," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm getting married!"

Dryden shook a bit with silent laughter. "You'd better believe it."

~*~

Dilandau reached up and grasped a strong tree bough with gloved hands. With a barely audible grunt he pulled himself up into the heart of the tree branches. His leather jacket creaked as he settled himself among the leaves. He'd only worn his jacket and had left the majority of his metal armor behind. The steel boots he could do nothing about. They were the best damn footwear ever created, as far as he was concerned.

He was positioned to the left of the wedding congregation, just to the side of shrine. It was a precarious position—he would be in Van's direct line of sight if he didn't keep himself well hidden. However, it was the best lookout spot. Escaflowne wasn't that far off, and that's where the damn altar was.

Sacrificial altar, if he had anything to say about it. Two of Van's guards had, and Dilandau had promptly lopped their heads off. Uppity bastards. Then there had been that annoying wolf man…

He grinned. "I'm still the best," he whispered.

Suddenly a gray burst of energy crashed into his shoulder, almost sending him plummeting to the ground. He had to grind his teeth together fiercely to keep from swearing.

A feathery head nuzzled his neck. Dilandau recognized the familiar sensation of talons digging into his shoulder.

"You do that again," he whispered, not taking his eyes off of the wedding, "And I'll roast you like a turkey. Still, Natal. Still."

The owl twisted his head until it was at an extreme angle, but said nothing. Natal had long ago learned Dilandau's commands. "Still," meant quiet. "Away," meant to leave. Quickly.

Dilandau ignored his feathered comrade and concentrated on the carriage that had just pulled up. He should have brought his crossbow with him. 

He frowned as he saw the Asturian merchant-king help the bride out of the coach. Wasn't that Natsu fool supposed to walk the little whore down the aisle? Dilandau scanned the crowd, searching for the Fanelian general. He found the lout standing across the aisle from…his heart beat faster…Van.

Dilandau blinked. What as Van _wearing_? He looked like a penguin with hair.

"Fool," he whispered. _Where's your sword?_

He lifted his hand to stroke his right cheek. The movement both calmed and excited him.

This nightmare would end now. These visions would stop. With Van's death there would be nothing to remember.

There was nothing _to_ remember.

Except the feeling of being held as he flew through the air. The deep end of a pool where he swam in the cool water. The sensation of strong arms wrapped around him while he sobbed.

Fragments, Dilandau had realized, fragments of yet another lost life.

If it hadn't been for his early experiences with Celena he would have dismissed it. If it hadn't been for the clarity of the visions, he would have simply pushed it aside. If it hadn't been for Van's words…

Something was lurking in his mind, something he knew that if he tried hard enough he could touch, remember, and taste. 

"Away," he whispered, brushing a hand against the tips of Natal's wing. The owl flew off in silence.

Dilandau watched the couple standing before the altar. He touched the hilt of his sword. 

"The past cannot, and _will _not, be," he whispered.

~*~

Van smiled as he took Hitomi's hand. Dryden winked and took his place beside Millerna. Hitomi bit her lip nervously; Van squeezed her hand and felt guilty.

He wasn't getting married for the right reasons. How had he let this go so far?

Van faced the High Councilor, a wheezing man of the church with huge spectacles and age spots on his bald head. Van knelt before the man and bowed his head, Hitomi followed his lead, resting on her knees. The councilor began the ceremonial readings.

__

This must be how Millerna felt, Van thought. Doing something he knew he wouldn't be happy with, but knowing that it wasn't all that terrible. Hitomi was no longer the love his life. He cared for her and felt an amiable companionship with her. But he was no longer the person she had fallen in love with.

So why couldn't he seem to stop this wedding?

He snuck a look at Merle and the bridesmaids behind her. She was Hitomi's Matron of Honor. Celena was in the back of the bridesmaids and looked worried. 

Merle glared at him fiercely and tilted her head towards the councilor. Van snapped his attention back on the man. 

If he called off the wedding Hitomi would be hurt beyond words. Van knew he couldn't do that to her. He could deal with a one-sided marriage.

__

After all, Van thought, rising to his feet, _it's not as if I could ever love again._

~*~

Leitken had lost track of Dilandau. His commander moved faster than he thought humanly possible, melting in with the trees and the night in a way that made him think of Dopplegangers. The thought was ridiculous—as if Dilandau would ever have anything to do with things as lowly as shape-shifters.

Luckily, the shadow that had followed Dilandau in his sudden flight seemed to have lost track of him as well. Leitken hadn't gotten close enough to the shape to discern what it was, but the form was obviously confused. It stumbled from one tree to another, getting slightly lost but always managing to find its way back to whatever strange path it was on.

It had been two days. Dilandau had never stopped. At least, not while he was in Leitken's sights.

Now the violet-haired soldier was becoming nervous. He had almost stumbled into a crowd of Fanelians on the edge of the forest. It had taken a few moments, but he had figured out that a wedding of some sort was taking place. He knew that he was very, _very_ far from where he was supposed to be. However, this was where Dilandau had traveled. There were light tracks left by the commander's boots on the soft forest ground—obviously Dilandau had trusted the loyalty of this Dragonslayers enough to not bother covering his tracks…or he wasn't planning on ever returning.

Though, if Dilandau was to do that, the only way he could ever escape Zaibach was six feet underground in a big black box.

Leitken hid between the trees, watching the shadow. He had followed it dutifully, watching how it was tracking the commander. He had a feeling Dilandau was close, but he wasn't concerned about him right now. He had obviously had an important reason for attending this Fanelian wedding. The shadow however, was low and crouched, as if it were about to strike. 

That worried Leitken. The figure was fidgeting, and it was preparing to do something he knew wasn't good.

Feeling anger well up from inside him, Leitken unsheathed his sword.

~*~

Dilandau crouched behind the hulking figure of Escaflowne. His body was tense and coiled, anticipating the attack. He had only one plan now—kill Van, kill Hitomi, get out. There weren't any rules on how it was to be done, and he had no idea about he was going to go about it. When the bloodlust rose and became too thick and sweaty to handle, he would go.

And so he crouched and grit his teeth together as the homicidal urge rushed through his veins, causing his breathing quicken and his limbs to shake. The pain of it was exhilarating. He waited through most of the ceremony, simply letting his hate take over him. Letting his anger flow until his gaze turned red.

The time for the vows came to pass. The minute Dilandau heard the syrupy sound of Hitomi's voice in the air he physically flinched. That meant it was game time.

He rose and walked out from behind the guymelef, relishing at how the silence began to ring through the grove of trees. The minister stopped his drivel as Dilandau walked past him. This was also because the boy delivered a quick blow to the back of the old man's neck, but that was irrelevant. 

Van was staring at him wide-eyed. Hitomi was still saying her vows as she looked up at him. Stupid woman.

"For fuck's sake, Hitomi, shut your damn mouth," he said with as much disdain as he could muster.

Before the girl could close her mouth, Natsu came flying out of nowhere.

"You won't harm the Fanelian monarcy!" he screamed. Dilandau turned, deliberately slower than he should have. His sword met Natsu's naked blade, but not before the tip had sliced through his jacket and cut his upper left arm. 

Dilandau smirked and felt fire in his veins.

Maximizing his adrenaline, he pushed the larger man off him easily. Natsu immediately went to block, like any good soldier would. Dilandau knew that and changed his attack to kicking the man's feet out instead of using his sword. Natsu squawked in surprise as he fell forward, but was cut off as Dilandau neatly removed slit his throat.

He grinned and pushed the dead man away from him. Amazingly enough, the crowd was staring at him and silent. Too stupid to be running away? That was slightly disconcerting, but he could work with it.

He turned back to face the couple, but instead found Van a mere five inches away from him, sword drawn and at his side. His eyes burned into his. Dilandau felt a small bubble of terror rise in his throat. He dismissed it and met the Fanelian boy's gaze with a bloodthirsty grin.

"Dilandau," Van whispered gravely.

"Yes?" he answered, nonchalantly taking off his jacket. The thing wasn't good for sword fighting. He touched Van's forearm lightly. "Are you going to fight me wearing that penguin suit?"

"What the hell are you doing here?" Van asked. The intensity of his eyes didn't waver, but he did begin to take off his tuxedo jacket. He ripped off the tie as well.

"Why, I've come here to kill you. Remember?" Dilandau said, staring back in a challenge. He raised his left arm and licked the blood from his cut. He ran his tongue around his lips, coating them. The Fanelian's eyes grew strangely sad.

"Please don't make me kill you," Van whispered. "I told you once I wouldn't kill you. Don't make me out to be a liar."

Dilandau felt a small part of his mind flinch with a memory that he immediately repressed. His left arm tensed violently, and blood rained from his arm. He gave it another lick and then lowered it, never lessening the crazed focus of his gaze.

"This ends today," he said. "Whether I die or not is not my concern. It's only that you do."

He took a few steps back, never breaking eye contact. The feeling between him and Van was electric and exciting beyond measure. He raised his sword.

Dilandau grinned with bloody teeth. "Shall we dance?"

Van broke his eye contact and looked to the crowd. "Guards, do not, I repeat, _do not_ intervene whatsoever. This began by the two of us and will end in the same fashion. Get the civilians out of here immediately and wait at the palace!"

A few armored men suddenly popped out of the trees, shooing the townspeople in alarmed, hurried voices. A dull roar took over the grove, people shuffling slowly towards the heart of the city. Most were scared for their king, angry with Dilandau for his crimes, and too terrified to do anything but obey Van's word.

"She stays," Dilandau said, referring to Hitomi.

"You will not hurt her, Dilandau," Van replied, facing him fully again.

Dilandau glanced at the slow-moving crowd. "I don't have the patience for our audience to leave."

"I know," Van said. And with that he charged him.

~*~

Time was relative. That had always been one of Dilandau's favorite sayings. Leitken didn't know how many times he'd heard those words, but he'd never really thought about it. Sure, downtime hours always felt like minutes whereas training days seemed like _years, _but that was normal. If he wanted to run out to town, the trip there was always _so_ long, but the trip back was way too short. 

Yeah, if you _wanted_ to actually get anywhere, it always took the most time. Which could be why it was taking five _fucking_ million years to reach the damn shadow. 

The shadow wearing a cape with the emblem of the Madoushi. The shadow with a dart-blower pressed to its lips. 

Leitken felt loyalty rise up and swell inside him. Darting noisily through the trees, he finally gave up on surprising his enemy. If he had to give the other man the upper hand, so be it. Leitken knew who those darts were aimed at and he'd be damned if the Madoushi were going to mess with his commander anymore. Ever since he'd been given the orders to lie to Dilandau about his capture he'd felt lower than dirt and twice as filthy.

Three leaps away, he saw the hand of the sorcerer tense and Leitken let out a strident cry that caused the man to turn. In slow motion, he saw the lips of the Madoushi purse and send a dart slicing through air. Gritting his teeth, he brought his unsheathed sword out in a full circle that hissed through the air. 

The dart hit him in the worse spot possible—his neck. Leitken's cry was cut short as he felt the needle imbed itself in his jugular. The poison worked quickly; the cold shivered through his veins and numbed him completely…but not before his blade swept through the sorcerer, cleaving him almost in two, separated just below the ribcage. 

Leitken smiled as his knees hit the ground, eyes sliding shut as he slumped over in the dead man's blood. 

~*~

Van felt blood dribble down his chin. He'd bitten his lip while blocking a blow to his neck, he figured. Or he'd bitten his tongue to keep from screaming out in pure emotional agony.

Here he was, defending the life of a bride he didn't love, doing battle with a psychopath who was hell bent on killing him as well. And oh yeah, he was in love with said psychopath. Wasn't it amusing how life and death situations cleared up all your perspective?

Thank god he'd had that sword hidden under the altar. You can never be too careful. Where the hell had Dilandau come from anyway? What had happened to all his guards…never mind. This _was_ the head of the Dragonslayers he was talking about.

Van felt the icy fire of Dilandau's blade on his shoulder, the tip of the sword grazing him. Time to focus.

The pale boy was in his element. Van had never seen him fight with such fury. His moves were faster, deadlier. Every move Dilandau made was like a dance—graceful muscle stretching and flexing as he sought to conquer. His star-colored hair whipped airily about his face, framing his wide eyes and blood-rouged mouth.

He didn't want to kill him. Gods, Dilandau was beautiful.

Van blocked another blow and whipped a foot around, catching Dilandau in the calf. The albino slipped and fell to his side. He caught himself with a blood-soaked arm and twisted away from the sword stroke that followed it. Van grunted as he felt his blade hit the ground and bounced back as Dilandau rose before him again.

"You're taller," he said, voice slightly higher-pitched with the bloodlust. It still, however, held the velvety arrogant tone Van knew so well.

"As tall as you," Van replied. "Intimidated?"

Dilandau thrust his blade boldly at his face, a move he knew he wouldn't succeed with, but could be used as a great scare tactic.

Van ducked, knowing he shouldn't, and felt terror grip his stomach. He'd fallen for it. 

Dilandau charged, swiftly bringing his sword down to block Van's upward thrust. He rammed his knee into Van's chest, knocking the Fanelian boy backwards.

Van gritted his teeth and ignored the sudden lack of oxygen in the air. He wrapped an arm around Dilandau's waist and flung himself against the other boy, sending them both rolling head over feet, blades intertwined.

When they landed, Dilandau caught the side of Van's blade in his shoulder blade, creating a long bloody slit along his back. With a small grunt, he retaliated by taking out a concealed dagger and slamming it into the Fanelian's thigh.

"Damn it!" Van growled, wrenching the dagger out of his leg. Dilandau, however, refused to let go. He pressed upwards, using Van's backward momentum to carry him to his feet. Van tore the dagger out of the other boy's hand and sprung out from under him, standing up. He grimaced as a wave of pain surged out from his thigh.

"Intimidated?" Dilandau asked with a raised eyebrow. "I think not."

Van glanced about the clearing. The last of the civilians had left and only a few wary-looking soldiers were standing at the end of the shrine. Hitomi and Merle, hands clasped together, stood amongst the guards.

The glance cost him dearly. The minute his eyes left the red heat of Dilandau's gaze, the Zaibach boy lunged forward, sword aimed for his throat. Van saw it out of the corner of his eye and moved to block it, half a second too late.

Dilandau's blade met the base of Van's sword, almost nicking the hilt. Had Natsu not have injured Dilandau's arm earlier, the thrust would have been faster and stronger. Nevertheless, Van felt how weak his block was and widened his eyes as his sword was torn away from his hands.

The royal blade landed many feet away, unattainable and mocking.

Van leapt back, going with the momentum of Dilandau's blow. The albino followed him, taking another swipe that caused him to duck before he was balanced. His backside met the ground below him.

Dilandau's triumphant giggle resounded throughout the forest.

Van lay propped on his elbows, Dilandau's sword underneath his chin. He had only one thought—despite the fact that the boy was covered in blood and bent on killing him, Dilandau _was_ beautiful. Sadistic and terrifying beyond reason…but beautiful nonetheless.

"Damn," Dilandau said, his voice childish in its disappointment, "I wanted to kill Hitomi first."

Van thought quickly. "You could still do it."

Dilandau laughed. "Yes, I could, and then have to deal with you a bit more. But I'm tired of you Van. I'm tired of all this shit. I've let you live too long."

"Is that really why you came back?" Van whispered. Dilandau's smirk faded.

"Back…" Dilandau echoed, his eyes glassy. Suddenly he shook his head and his face dissolved into a mask of total fury. "Perhaps," he spat. "I will kill you later, as slowly as possible. You'll get your wish boy-king, and you'll scream because of it."

And then Van knew he'd made a mistake. Dilandau lunged forward and hit him upside the head with the his fist. Van jerked away as much as he possibly could, weakening the severity of the blow. Still, he fell on his side, dazed and confused. There was blood in his mouth. Feeling light-headed, he cursed himself for not remembering how hard Dilandau could hit.

"Dilandau-chan!" screamed a high and terrified voice. "Stop!"

Dilandau was nothing more than blur to Van's eyes, but suddenly the pale boy's form was drowned out by a swirling sea of lavender. It reminded him of Allen's scarf, and as the world grew dizzy he felt reassured.

~*~

Celena stood in front of Dilandau, his sword poised to strike. Her lavender bridesmaid's dress billowed around her in the wind and her own sword was at her side. Behind her lay Van, his eyes half closed and his skin pale. She'd been herded out with the rest of the civilians against her will, but had managed to sneak off in the confusion, grabbing a guard's sword as she went. She had felt Dilandau's blind bloodlust and realized there wasn't anything Van could do. Only she could.

"Stop this Dilandau-chan," she said softly.

Dilandau stared, eyes wide. His mouth formed a perfect "o" and the veins in his neck were bulging blue. She glanced at the gash on his arm and felt the familiar ache in her own, the wound on his back singing with pain that hurt them both. His ribs, she noticed, hadn't healed.

Dilandau blinked and lowered his sword. 

"Who are you?" he whispered.

Celena felt the words before she heard them. The connection was still there. Dilandau recognized its presence, she realized. He just didn't want to admit it for some reason.

__

I am Celena Schezar, she thought, focusing on the bloody ghost before her. She had tried communicating with him like this a few times before, only succeeding once.

Dilandau physically flinched.

He suddenly lunged forward, a blow coming towards her in mind's eye. She countered it easily, knowing his next move.

Her swordsmanship was as flawless as her brother's was.

Dilandau still seemed to have the connection with her that he'd always had, but there seemed to be a mental blockade that kept him (and her) from utilizing it's potential.

Behind her, Van was rising very unsteadily to his feet. He looked over to his sword, lying

"Stay behind me Van," she said in a low voice. "There's nothing you can do."

"Celena?" he asked. His voice sounded awed and stubborn.

Her temper sparked. "He won't listen to you! Let me do—"

Celena was cut off by Dilandau's sudden attack. He pushed her back a few paces with a whirling flash of metal. Catching his sword with her blade, she threw him off.

__

You taught me that move, she thought to Dilandau.

The pale boy didn't' even blink. Again he attacked, feinting to the left and then coming up quickly on the right. Celena dodged the blow…barely. Dilandau began circling her. She motioned for Van to stay behind her.

A tremor passed through her body. She hadn't seen the attack coming!

Dilandau, she realized, was reinforcing the mental wall she had felt earlier. He was feeding his handicap!

"You don't want to remember, do you?" she asked in a shocked whisper.

"There is nothing to remember," Dilandau sneered. His eyes were serious and calculation, the usual malicious glee missing.

__

So, Celena thought_, there some doubt._

She took a deep breath and knew what she had to do.

Celena went on the offensive. She sprang forward, her blade singing as it clashed with his. Slicing low, their blades locked.

Sweating, she pushed down with all her strength, holding his sword down. They stood eye to eye, noses almost touching. 

"My name is Celena Schezar," she said. "You were borne from me! You and I are the same."

Dilandau's eyes widened. "Celena…"

"On the 8th moon of Red you were created by Zaibach sorcerers and I was lost into your subconscious and was unable to escape until the end or the Great War," she pressed on. She was going to force him to doubt himself, to remember.

"You're crazy!" Dilandau yelled. He threw her blade off his own and backed up.

Celena caught herself as she stumbled backwards. She glanced towards Van, who was crouched by his sword. He looked unsure as to whether he should pick it up or not.

Celena charged again, yelling as she attacked.

"You rose up one last time Dilandau, and then you separated form me. After that you and I both stayed with Van, stayed with him because we love him both. He took us in, Dilandau-chan! Both of us not because we needed it, but because he cares! You are doing the wrong thing!"

Dilandau jumped back. "I don't believe you!" he screamed. "You're nuts! There isn't any truth in what you say. Van and I are enemies, and so are you and me, connection or not. I don't even believe we _have_ a connection. You're nothing more than a little girl trying to act like her big brother."

Celena stopped, hurt. Van made a move forward but she put her hand up. He looked off to the side, black head shaking with impatience.

"So Van and you are enemies, right? Nemesis's, if you will. So what will you do after you kill him, Dilandau-chan? You are the best warriors on Gaea. Your battles with each other are what make you great. If either of you are to die, you become nothing. Is that why you came back, Dilandau-chan? To become _nothing_?"

"Celena's right Dilandau," Van whispered, taking a minute step forward. "Without you I am nothing."

Celena looked down for a brief moment. "And without you, I will die."

"We all need each other," Van said.

Dilandau had gone past white, his body shaking slightly. His breathing was loud and harsh.

"You're remembering, aren't you?" Celena whispered.

Dilandau raised his sword. He stared at her a long, hard moment. He wasn't going to give. His insanity was on the rise and she knew it.

"Catch him," Celena said over her shoulder, switching her sword to her left hand. Van raised an eyebrow.

Dilandau let out a scream and charged.

Instantly Celena dropped to the ground, pressing her right hand against the stone. She raised her left hand high and brought the sword down. The blade slid through her right hand effortlessly. Pain exploded up her arm and her vision blurred.

Dilandau's sword fell from his right hand with a clatter. He fell down to one knee.

Van crouched down before the other boy as soon as he hit the ground. He quickly snatched up Dilandau's sword and flung it away. He turned and yelled at the guards to stay back.

Dilandau, right hand cradled in his left, stared at her with huge, terrified eyes. Celena could almost hear his mind collapsing in on itself as it sorted everything into place.

"We," she said through painfully gritted teeth, "We are _connected_."

Dilandau's breathing hitched. Slowly he turned his head to Van. The two boys stared at each other for a long time.

Dilandau reached out and ran a finger down the faint scar on Van's cheek.

"I used to call you Pigeon," he whispered.

Then Dilandau's eyelids fluttered and Dilandau fainted dead away. Van caught him as he pitched forward and held him close.

Celena smiled as tears began to stream down her face.

~*~

****

rainjewel: *shakes maracas* Hola minna! Whee! I just used two words from two different languages. I'm bilingual. Just wait till someone sneezes…

****

Ryan: First I had to deal with your insanity as one of your characters, and now I'm your muse. *falls to knees and prays* Why me? What did I do? Is my karma _really_ that bad?

****

rainjewel: You are sssooooo weird! *begins to cha-cha*

****

Ryan: *sighs* Yes everyone, rainjewel is back. And she will be attempting to finish up this little pile of literary nonsense in a somewhat timely manner, since _someone_, *cough—EX-ANGEL—cough* has threatened her life. 

****

rainjewel: Come on Ryan! Cha-cha with me! 

****

Ryan: *shakes head* This is what happens when she listens to that Enrique Iglesias stalker song and runs out of Diet Coke. Take pity on my poor soul.

__

~*~


	18. Ophelia

**Behind Enemy Lines**

By: rainjewel

_Chapter Seventeen: Let There Be Light_

_"Not everything looks as it seems_

_Is that so hard to believe_

_But you're just what I need"_

_~ "You're Just What I Need" Ben Folds Five_

~*~

Van took a deep breath as he began his way through the woods. Celena, walking resolutely beside him, was struggling to keep her eyes open as she weakly walked along, cradling her injured hand. Van half thought about ordering a guard to simply pick her up, but knew that she wouldn't appreciate that. Celena, he had realized, was a lot more than she appeared.

Gritting his teeth, Van adjusted the unfamiliar weight of Dilandau's body across his shoulders. Dilandau outweighed him, but Van wasn't too keen on letting anyone else carrying him to the castle. No one in Fanelia, save him and Celena, were too fond of the ruby-eyed boy. Besides, none of his guards looked as if they wanted to carry Dilandau anyway.

They reached the edge of the forest, looking down into the city. There were throngs of people outside the castle. Though they stood far away, Van could hear the people screaming. He caught sound of Dilandau's name, and decided that it probably wasn't said in a nice manner. 

"We'll go around the back way," he commanded, looking to the three guards accompanying him. "Make sure we're not seen."

They took the long way through town. Out through the poorest sections, around the main market, until they had to run right along the side of the mob. The going was slower than Van would have liked, but it couldn't be helped. 

Van was almost staggering as he came up the back steps, but he tapped into his resolve and made his way to the small back door without a grimace. Verdi opened the door. She had already changed out of her lavender bridesmaid's dress and the look on her face told Van she was _not _happy with him in the least.

"The Asturian monarchy, Merle, and Lady Hitomi have already been taken to a secured room," she informed them in her usual factual manner. "The public is frightened and outraged."

"As to be expected," Van said. He looked to one of the guards. "You there, come with me. You two, take Celena to where Queen Millerna and the others are."

Verdi shot him a surprised look, but fell into step beside him as he began to walk down the halls. Van looked on with a grim determination. This was going to be a hard storm to weather.

They reached the door to Folken's old room, which, for all intensive purposes, was now his own. Van turned to the soldier.

"You are to stand outside this door and guard the room. You are going to make sure nothing happens to him," Van said, eyes dark, "Or the entire guard will suffer."

"_Him?_" Verdi all but screamed. "Your Majesty, what are you—"

"Verdi!" Van spat, silencing her. He turned and walked into the room. Gently he lay Dilandau down on the bed. Verdi stood, arms crossed, the door behind her closed. She was not going to give into him.

_Now I remember why I appointed her_. Van grinned on the inside.

She strode up to him. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?" she began in a low hiss. She gestured wildly to the bed. "That man tried to kill you! _Numerous times,_ I may add. Not to mention that he burned your entire country to the ground!" 

Van said nothing, merely flung the door open to the bathroom and stomped in. Verdi caught the door with the heel of her hand, not letting up. Van pointedly ignored her and filled the sink full of cold water. He dipped a wash cloth in it and began cleaning off his face.

Verdi continued her rant. "He is nothing but a walking disaster! Now don't you _dare_ tell me that you are going to allow him back here as if nothing has happened! If you—"

"I don't care," Van said quietly. Verdi paused, shock written on her features. "_I don't care!_" Van said again, this time his voice bellowing through the room.

He walked out of the bathroom, pushed past Verdi, and stuck his head out the door. The guard almost fell over in fright.

"Get me Queen Millerna! I want her in here this instant along with Celena Schezar!" he ordered. Van slammed the door.

Verdi's eyes were wide. 

"The people will never accept this," she whispered.

Van rummaged around for a clean shirt. "I'll make them."

"How?"

"They trust me, don't they?"

"Iyes."

"If they trust me enough, they will let him stay."

Van took off his ragged dress shirt and put on one of Folken's old green tunics. It felt warm and familiar. Verdi looked away, her gaze landing on Dilandau.

"Why do you want to save him? He's a murderer," she said. Her brow wrinkled, and she snapped her head back to Van. "I'm not only your financial advisor, your Majesty. I am your _chief_ advisor. Are you going to let me do my job or not? Do you want my advice?"

"I have a feeling that you're going to give it to me no matter what," Van said. He slipped on his usual pair of boots. 

"Damn straight," Verdi said, a vague grin ghosting across her lips. "If you are going to come out of this situation alive, you'll get rid of him. Your people, Lord Van, want his blood spilled on the altar."

"He's my friend," Van said. "I'd no more do that then if it was _your_ blood they wanted."

"If it was my blood they wanted," Verdi whispered, "I would beg for you to kill me."

Van went pale. 

The door suddenly burst open, and a very annoyed Millerna walked through it. Verdi bowed, and Van raised a hand to scratch the back of his head anxiously. Celena slipped in behind her and the guard closed the door.

Millerna stood, hands on her hips. "What do you want?"

"Dilandau-chan!" Celena all but screamed. She ran to the side of the bed and took his hand in her own. Van winced, seeing the bloody bandage on her right hand.

"I want you to take care of him—make sure he's all right," Van said.

"What did you just say?" Millerna asked, blue eyes blinking.

"Please Millerna," Van pleaded. "I beg of you, please do this for me. And if not for me, then do it for Celena. If he doesn't get better, _she_ doesn't get better. And if he doesn't get better and ends up dying"

Millerna gave him a hard look, then nodded. "I'll do it because I trust you."

"Thank you," Van said, bowing. 

"You're seriously going to keep him here," Verdi whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

Van said nothing. He marched to the front of the room and opened the door. He gave the guard a stern glare, and then delivered his orders. 

"You're to follow all of Queen Millerna's requests, got it?"

The guard nodded. "Yes, sir!"

"Good. Get someone to bring me my ceremonial armor," he said.

Van turned around and faced the pale Verdi. "It's time to make a statement."

~*~

Hitomi edged her way behind the curtains that usually covered the ballroom's balcony door. For one reason or another, he had decided to make his speech from the palace as opposed to the ceremonial courtyard. He was still wearing the royal armor, but this time it actually seemed to fit. He filled out the wide chest pads, and the helmet didn't slip down over his eyes.

She had long ago left Eries and Merle in her room. Eries had been her usual quiet self, saying nothing to either girls, only letting the occasional murmur escape her lips. As to what she was thinking, Hitomi had no clue. Merle had been pacing the length of the carpet, wearing a hole in the floor, while announcing 127 ways to "off Dilandau." Merle turned out to have a very creative andsadistic imagination.

Hitomi let her eyes rest on Van's back. She wasn't particularly listening to what he had to say. Trust him, trust him, trust him. She had listened to the first half, then given up. His speech was flawless, despite the fact that it was totally impromptu. He promised punishment for Dilandau if the boy turned out to be a menace, but held fast to the belief that something had _made_ Dilandau act the way he did. 

_Well_, Hitomi thought, _of course there is. He was created to be a maniacal bloodthirsty killer and he was trained to be damn good at it._

At first there had been a few outcries to Van's obvious support of Dilandau. But the black-haired young man had quickly laid down the charm (with frightening sincerity, Hitomi thought), and the audience had bought into it. Van was begging the people to let him rule as he saw fit—to trust him to be their guide. He was controlling the people with each word that fell from his lips, but they believed it was the populace who had the power.

He was, in every sense of the word, a great ruler. Van would give the public what it needed if the cry arose. But he would hold out for his own ideals. Ideals, Hitomi had noticed, that were usually dead on the mark.

She sighed. Absently she ran a hand down the dress she was wearing. It was one of her favorites, sea green and ended just above the knee. She had planned to wear it on the way to their honeymoon (wherever that may have been), but now it seemed she wasn't going to have one in the near future. In her heart of hearts, Hitomi thought she probably never would.

Quietly Hitomi retreated from the balcony, unseen by the world. She walked down into the maze of corridors that consisted of the living quarters until she came to Van's room. A soldier with weary brown eyes stood at the door, an obvious posted guard. Hitomi took a deep breath. Not stopping in her pace, she placed a hand on the door and tried to enter.

Quick as a flash, the guard reached up and caught her wrist. "I'm sorry Lady Hitomi, but his Majesty said I can't let anyone in the room without his permission."

"Do you think," Hitomi said carefully, letting a little danger edge her words, "That the Queen of Fanelia would need authorization to enter the bedroom of her husband?"

The guard broke out in a sweat. "Well, technically you're not—"

"What's your name, soldier?" Hitomi broke in, glaring.

"Toshio."

"Yes Toshio, you're right, I'm _not_ Queen yet," Hitomi said. "But Toshio, I think I might remember your name. It's not that common, not here on Fanelia. And _when_ I'm Queen, I might remember your name, and remember this day."

Even as she let the words pass from her mouth to the air, Hitomi was disgusted with herself. She was being cruel for reasons unclear to even her, but that didn't make them justified. A gray feeling had overcome her heart—non-descript, but ominous as the darkest storm cloud.

Toshio's red-rimmed eyes were pained. Without a sound or salute, the guard opened the door. Hitomi walked through, head high and eyes cold, but couldn't suppress a flinch when the door slammed behind her.

Hitomi looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. For some odd reason she felt as if she wouldn't see it again. The room had obviously belonged to Folken. There were dusty weights and measures on the shelves with various gadgets and gizmos. Star charts covered he ceiling and through the open close she could even see some of Folken's old clothes. 

Above the fireplace rose a full portrait of the fallen Strategos, but back before the time of dark cloaks, mechanical limbs, and violet tears. No, this was a depiction of a heartbreakingly beautiful young man, standing in front of a forest glade wearing the simply tunic, pants and boots that Hitomi was so familiar with through Van. He stood before a tree, face serious and arms crossed, looking frighteningly young. But through the stern mask, Hitomi saw the glint of the compassion and affable nature Folken possessed. She was pleased to see that there were no weapons in the portrait—he had never been too fond of anything dealing with death. Folken, even then, was wise beyond his years.

_The painting must have been done before the Dragon Rite_, Hitomi thought. She missed Folken. They had gotten along splendidly at the end of the war, identifying with each other's personalities. _Look at him thenfifteen years old and a breath away from gray hairs._

A breath away from death, Hitomi decided, was more appropriate. She sighed.

It was obvious Van had taken over his brother's room. He had royal documents strewn about the table and desk, and various articles of clothing covered the floor. Though Hitomi found more and more similarities between the Fanel brothers at every turn, there were noticeable differences. Van's chaos versus Folken's order, the rough way with words Van had compared to Folken's diplomatic suavity. Van had a tendency to solve more things violently whereas Folken had always been one for talk. Of course, there were always exceptions, things that never figured into the equation. Van's recent speech was one Folken would have applauded, perhaps somewhat enviously. Folken had flown into a rage with Dornkirk and lost his life.

And then there was the biggest exception to normalcy, the wild pitch Van had thrown and Hitomi hadn't been able to dodge quickly enough. No one had. 

It was Van's most noticeable addition to the room. It came in the deceptively beautiful package of a certain silver-haired boy, currently passed out on the bed. A boy with rosy bandages and whose hand was resting against the cheek of a curly haired girl who sat on the floor beside the bed. Her blue eyes were closed, her golden curls mussed, but Celena looked completely at peace, her face cradled gently in Dilandau's supine hand.

Hitomi's eyes narrowed. With careful, quiet steps she approached the bed. She felt guilty for being in here, as if she was breaking the law. Well, she was going against Van's orders. And secretly, on a level buried deep inside, she wanted to _hurt_ Dilandau while she was here. Hurt him like she'd never hurt anyone before.

Dilandau lay on his back, and for the first time Hitomi was struck by how innocent he was capable of looking. A crazy notion—it was no secret that Dilandau had _never_ been innocent. But lying against the white sheets, wearing only leather pants and a soiled lavender undershirt, he looked surprisingly calm. With his starry hair falling across his slightly turned head and the occasional bloody bandage, he looked like a fallen saint.

She looked upon him and felt the cool hatred flowing through her veins. Hitomi had never hated anyone before. She longed to see Dilandau's life snuffed out, like a candle. She drew happiness from the knowledge that he was in pain. When he and Van were dueling, she had looked upon every blow Van had succeeded in making upon that fair skin and rejoiced.

And yetand yet

It exhausted her. Hitomi had never been much for hatred—it wasn't a part of her personality. Her strength had always been in trusting people, always looking for the good. During the war she had been the cockeyed optimist, sniffing out the better part of a person's soul and bringing it to light. She did it with Van, Folken, most memorably Naria. Her body ached to convince itself that Dilandau wasn't really all that bad. 

Hitomi glanced away from Dilandau's body. This boy had killed thousands of people and relished it. He was a sadist hell-bent on bringing as much pain to Van's life as he could. He used to terrify her. He used to be the star of her nightmares, performing one gruesome act after another. But Dilandau didn't terrify her anymore. Her fear had given way to anger, and anger to hatred. A hatred, she vowed, she would sustain.

She wondered how long it would hold.

A small piece of parchment caught her eye. It was laying on the nightstand. Seeing it as an excuse to get closer to the bed (the guiltiness was clinging to her like a second skin), Hitomi stepped up and around and picked up the folded piece of paper. Van's name was written in curly, fine letters. Her guilt increasing, Hitomi opened the parchment and read it.

Van

I've been summoned to the dungeons. It seems a couple of suspicious prisoners were discovered in the woods, unconscious. They seem to be from Zaibach. The minute you get this note, I suggest you jiggle your butt on down there. And don't worry, I took care of Dilandau for you. You know, when he's inanimate he's not all that bad.

Millie

PS ~ Dryden is going back to Asturia to get in contact with our spies in Zaibach. Perhaps they have some idea as to what that silly country's planning.

Hitomi smiled, putting the parchment down. Millerna was really quite amusing. 

She looked back at Dilandau. She knew she should move on, see Van end his speech, and best leave this sleeping demon alone. However, her most secret worries kept holding her back, threatening to confirm themselves. What if Van came to her and had those deadened eyes she'd noticed at the altar? Or maybe she'd hug him and realize, again, that it felt hollow and cold. What if

Hitomi's hand crept out from her side and onto the crisp bed linens. After a quick glance to Celena, it settled on the silky shoulder of Dilandau Albatou.

Hitomi let out a small cry and fell to her knees.

_***_

_She stands in a room that feels familiar to her, though she's never seen it before. The smell of a forgotten cologne hovers in the air, stale and sweet. It comforts her. She is standing in a darkened corner of the room, almost diagonally form a window and straight across from a single bed. _

_Gradually she becomes aware of movement in the room, as if she is waking from a dream. A few paces from the window, two figures are pressed close together. Her heart thumps as she recognizes the two forms as Van and Dilandau. The pale boy seems to be pinned against a wall, his arms entwined in a ripped white fabric—possibly a shirt, Hitomi thinks. Van is holding him there, a knife pressed against the other boy's throat. Suddenly Van shakes his head, lowers the knife. His lips move, but Hitomi hears nothing._

_Dilandau looks furious. He struggles and looks as if he's yelling. Van shouts something back. And then the strangest thing happens. Looking smug and strangely pure for a moment, Dilandau leans forward and kisses Van full on the mouth. Hitomi gapes, touching the wall behind her for support._

_The two boys break the kiss. Dilandau mumbles something, his eyes gleaming. Without warning, he throws the two boys out the window. Hitomi cries out, and the world begins to spin, black, white, and gray swirling about her._

_The darkness break away, and a new scene lies before her. She smells pine trees, sweet and fresh. She looks up and sees two moons in the sky—Earth, her home, and its own moon. Hitomi holds out a hand and watches as the moonlight illuminates her skin. In the pale light, she can make out the forms of trees and concludes she is in a forest, undoubtedly that of Fanelia._

_Hitomi feels a tremor of fear pass through her, and she knows it's not her own. It's like feeling someone else's terror she thinks, and finds it odd that she doesn't think of this as alarming. A compelling force seems to want her to turn around, a whisper of a voice streaming through her head._

_A sudden vibration whips through her body, a harsh, shuddering sensation she recognizes as a loud sob—felt, and not heard. Alarmed, she whirls around._

_On the grass in front of her, shrouded in the ethereal mists of the forest, are Van and Dilandau. Hitomi swallows and puts a hand to her mouth as she takes in the scene._

_Dilandau is covered in blood, browning and sticky. Van is holding the boy as a mother would, head bowed and murmuring what looks like comforting whispers. Hitomi frowns—perhaps Dilandau is wounded. However, that doesn't explain Van's extremely nice demeanor._

_And then, she realizes, Dilandau is _crying_._

_Hitomi feels her heart twist and bleed within her chest as Dilandau's pained face sobs silently into the night, sparkling face pressed against Van's sweaty neck. The king's hands are running through Dilandau's hair, his lips kissing silver locks. She watches as Van cuddles the broken boy, holding him likelike a mother might._

_In her mind's eye, Hitomi sees the shattered image of heart, torn and bloody muscle upon the black dirt of the forest floor. She wipes at her eyes, feeling tears. A cool, emphatic ache runs through her bones as she looks upon Dilandau's misery. She thinks she might feel sorry for him. Immediately, she dismisses the notion._

_As she does so, the scene changes yet again, the world around her melting into air. Hitomi feels mildly disgusted with herself for pitying the albino boy. _

_The black and white spiral comes to an abrupt halt, leaving Hitomi on her knees. Beneath her is a soft, plush blue carpet. She blinks a few times, and a room comes into view. It is vast, filled with books of all shapes and sizes. It smells old and musty—comforting, like her old school. In front of her is a large red armchair, and folded up in it is a dark-haired boy._

_Hitomi immediately recognizes the person to be Van. He is wearing a white tunic and pale blue pajama pants, looking wonderfully ruffled. Her heart skips, and Hitomi prays that this next event will _not_ be anything like the past two._

_Alas, she realizes, that is not to be. Van suddenly slams the book shut, and says something to the open air. Hitomi is directly in front of him and is confused—can he see her? There is a slight movement in the air, and she sees a pale white calf glide by, just on her right. Hitomi looks up, her gaze meeting the form of Dilandau, dressed in a ratty white tank top and boxers. The boy's red eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Hitomi looks to Van, wishing she could hear what he has said._

_The black-haired boy rises to his feet and easily pads over to Dilandau, the expression on his face can only be described as one of understanding. With a small smile, Van slides reaches out and slides both his hands along Dilandau's hips and kisses the boy lightly on the mouth._

_Hitomi can't help it; she screams. Neither of the boys seem to hear her. Her eyes fixate on the figures before her, unbelieving and unable to look away._

_Words are exchanged, and Dilandau's body relaxes. Van runs a hand down the pale boy's face, tracing a scar Hitomi remembers so well. Dilandau's lips break into a smirk, and he kisses Van hungrily. The Fanelian leans into the kiss, his body arched and pressing against the other boy's. Hands begin to run amok, and the kiss leads to another, this one more feverish. Hitomi's eyes are full with tears, and as the two figures sink to the ground, she screams aloud again._

_***_

Hitomi pulled her hand away from Dilandau's shoulder, gasping as she did so. She shook her head to clear her vision, and also perhaps to try and wipe the images she had seen from her mind. She didn't want to believe them, but she knew her visions never lied.

She scowled down at Dilandau's figure, but couldn't maintain the hateful grimace. His pale face was troubled, his eyebrows knit and lips frowning, andand tears were leaking from the corner of his eyes.

Hitomi suddenly realized she couldn't hate him. She couldn't understand why, but she couldn't hate him. _But_, she thought, _I may not hate you, but I'm sure mad as hell_.

Strangely angry and numb all at once, Hitomi turned her gaze away from the soldier. Taking a deep breath, she turned and began to walk out of the room.

As she opened the door to leave, her eyes met the intense stare of Folken's portrait. Her rage exploded at the canvas.

"You said that my power was that I believed in people, that I always sought out the good. You were wrong," she said aloud. "It's a curse."

~*~

Dilandau was standing in a gorge. Actually, he amended, it was more like a pit. Tall sandstone cliffs rose high above him, their brown tops kissing the cloudy sky. He had absolutely no clue where he was—he'd never seen a place like this before. The air was dry and cold, which surprised him. A place like this should be warmer.

_Great. I'm stuck in a desert that's cold. And I'm in a pit with no way out. How did I even _get_ here? Of course, this just had to happen to me. Oh happy friggin' day._

He sighed, rubbing his nose with a leather glove. Deciding that figuring a way out of the gorge was probably a good way to start dealing with his situation, Dilandau began walking a backwards, trying to see as much of his sandstone prison as possible.

Suddenly, his boot came down on something and made a horrid squishing sound. Dilandau recognized the smell and feel of decaying flesh.

Annoyed, he rolled his eyes towards the sky. The gods, he thought, must all be women, and they must be on the rag. He turned around to look at the body.

A black cape covered the decaying form. A pair of spectacles lay beside the corpse, glinting against the sandy dust. Feeling nauseous, Dilandau rolled the body over with his boot. 

Dilandau couldn't stop himself—he jumped back as Zlain's greasy, rotted features came into view. He tasted blood and realized he'd bitten the inside of his lip.

Heart pounding, he backed away from the corpse. He cursed himself for being so irrational; it was just some stupid dead sorcerer. Sure, he'd never liked the guys, but there wasn't any logical reason to be afraid of them. With the exception of Folken, who in his mind didn't really count, it wasn't as if he'd ever really _known_ any of them.

_But_, said a low voice in Dilandau's head, _how'd you know his name was Zlain?_

He winced at the notion. Continuing to backpedal, Dilandau heard a sharp crack and looked down to the ground once again. 

A full human skeleton lay beneath his feet. Dilandau grimaced. Ew. He turned away.

Thunder suddenly boomed across the sky, following an unnerving flash of _red_ lightening. Rain began to fall, black as midnight.

_What is this place?_

Dilandau held out a pale hand. A raindrop hit, obscuring his palm. The droplet was cool and wet, but it was dark as death, totally blocking out the sight of whatever it touched. If he were to stick his hand in a bucket of this rainwater, he would see nothing but blackness.

_Well,_ thought Dilandau,_ this is certainly unnatural._ He began to feel a little uncomfortable. 

A sizzling sound reached his ears. His stomach instinctively dropped and a cold fear began to run through his body. Very slowly, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Gripping the weapon tightly, he whirled around.

Standing before him, knitting itself together, was the skeleton that had been on the ground moments before. Gray-white bones flew unexplainably through the air and fell into place. The speed of the reconfiguration was amazing. Veins, nerves, muscle, and finally skin quickly spread over the bony framework—and finally the dark uniform of a Madoushi sorcerer. The eye sockets remained hollow; black caverns that chilled to the bone.

Dilandau gave a yell that could have burst eardrums. In a flash his sword was out, the blade slicing through the newly madecreature.

The sorcerer fell to the ground, creating a splash in the rainwater, which was pooling on the floor of the gorge. Dilandau backed up away from the creature. The walls around him were black, the dark water spilling over the tops and raining from the sky. The thick feeling in his throat told him that he was in a _very _bad situation.

More sizzling.

Turning around, Dilandau was greeted with the vision of half a dozen more corpses rising to their feet. A glance behind him revealed that he sorcerer he had just slain was pulling itself back together. 

The water level at his ankles, the creatures began to advance. Dilandau kicked into high gear, screaming like a banshee. He flew into the midst of the reincarnated Madoushi, blade whizzing through the air as if it were a holy scepter. He easily mowed down the sorcerers, but the minute he did so they rose again, and the numbers seemed to be increasing.

Dilandau frowned, lopping the head off of an advancing creature. The water was to his knees. _It shouldn't be rising this quickly._ He realized that if these animated corpses didn't kill him, the water would.

A cold hand gripped his shoulder. Dilandau twisted around and hacked the left arm off a body. As the thing fell, it's mouth opened and a low, echoing voice filled the pit.

**_"Come back, Dilandau. Come with us."_**

Dumbfounded, Dilandau almost dropped his sword. Another creature came at him, and he cut it down without thought. This one also spoke as it fell.

**_"Come back, we will take care of you."_**

Dilandau found his voice. "_Fuck_ that."

**_"Dilandau, come back. You belong to us."_**

"I belong to no one, assholes," he spat. A bit panicked, Dilandau noticed that the black water had risen to his waist, slowing his movements considerably. He tried not to think about how tired he was.

A new voice cut through. **_"Please, Dilandau-sama, come back. We miss you."_**

Dilandau's heart stopped still. Before him rose the unmistakable figures of his Dragonslayers, eyeless as the Madoushi creatures, but their features recognizable and searing.

"This _can't _be happening!" he screamed, "You're all dead!"

**_"We're lost without you, Dilandau-sama."_**

Gatti reached for his shoulder. Feeling sick, Dilandau brought his sword down on the boy's—the _thing's_, head, cleaving the skull into. The corpse stumbled, splashing black water everywhere, then rose again. The flesh wove itself together effortlessly.

Dilandau began to scream, no longer answering the calls of the Madoushi and his Dragonslayers.

"I HATE YOU!" he yelled with all his might. The water was up to his chest and he could barely life his sword, but Dilandau swore to himself he would fight until his last breath.

**_"No you don't, Dilandau. You love us, remember?"_**

The word "remember" shot through his skull like lightening. Without reason, he paused and looked up to the top of the walls. Standing there, was a blurry figure, red shirt and black hair blowing in the wind. It was untouched by the rain.

_Van?_ Dilandau frantically tried to understand the significance of the sight.

Cold hands latched onto his arms. A strand of Viole's ridiculously long hair brushed past his cheek. Whispers began to hammer their way into his head, but he blocked out all sound. Dilandau tore his eyes away from the top of the cliffs. With a surge of energy he began to flail against the corpses who held him, but with limited success. He realized he was too tired, the water too high, and the creatures too many.

_Well shit._

Clarity struck him. He was going to die, drowned by the people he was supposed to be able to trust.

Black water lapped at his chin. 

"No!" he yelled, "I don't want this!"

**_"We're going back now. Come back with us."_**

Dilandau was suddenly pulled down under the water. _No! I don't want to go back! I don't want to go back with them! I—go back_

The vision of a dark-haired boy with the wings of an angel suddenly burned into his mind. The features sharpened and bloomed, revealing the face of one Van Fanel. A sharp pain spread through his skull, and Dilandau suddenly realized what was happening. Realized what _had_ happened.

Giving one last desperate struggle, he wrenched loose from the grip of his captors and fought for air.

Gasping, he broke the surface, blackness bleeding away from his vision. He looked up to the top of the wall, to the figure of Van standing at the edge.

"Van!" he screamed. "Van, I remember!"

Cold hands on his arms and legs, arms around his waist. Dilandau found himself yanked once again under the darkness. Water poured into his open mouth and filled his nose. He tried to break free of the fatal grip, but lost.

_No! No no no no no nononono!_

Heart breaking, he stopped his struggles. As his exhaustion gave way to defeat, Dilandau felt the pain of regret for the first time. It was numbed, however, as his life began to seep away into the greedy darkness.

He was just about to give into the easiness of death, when a sudden light broke through the black. Dilandau couldn't bring himself to move. He wanted to try and reach it, but found he was too weak for the struggle.

The icy grip of the monsters who held him vanished. It was replaced by the comfortable, soft light that was beginning to fill his vision. _This must be what it's like to die._ He felt warm arms slip around his waist, and he let himself give up.

Suddenly, the darkness broke. Dilandau found himself being pulled upwards, coughing and sputtering like an infant. On some inner level he realized that this was a good thing, but he was too tired to give much thought to it.

He felt ground beneath his feet. The light began to ebb and Dilandau resignedly stood, using whatever morsel of energy he had left. His vision pieced itself back together from the brightness and his world came into focus.

Or rather, the image of Van, wings spread wide behind him, came into focus.

And for once in his life, Dilandau couldn't think of one single way to deal with what that meant.

"You remembered," Van said, his voice breaking through the fogginess of Dilandau's mind like a knife through butter.

Unable to speak, Dilandau merely nodded in affirmation.

Van smiled, a beautiful phenomenon. He raised his arms out towards Dilandau.

"Welcome," he said softly, "To the beginning."

Reaching deep within himself, Dilandau managed a genuine smile. Van matched it and wound his arms around Dilandau, wrapping the boy in the safest embrace he'd ever known.

~*~

Leitken cursed inside his head. Why couldn't he be a Doppelganger and melt into walls whenever the need arose? He could waltz around in whatever form he wanted for the majority of the time, and then quickly escape into a nearby wall, fence, tree, small animal, etc. whenever the need arose.

Like now.

Before Leitken stood the mighty Fanelian king, the boy who had won the Great War, beaten the Caeli Knight Allen Schezar, traveled to other worlds, and was the only living person that ever beat Dilandau Albatou in swordplay.

And damn, he looked _furious_. He was wearing full ceremonial armor, arms crossed, eyes bearing down on Leitken as if he might kill him at any moment. And, the violet-haired boy noticed, the veins on his neck were bulging. This was probably not a good sign. Leitken pressed himself closer to the prison wall and prayed to the Gods for mercy.

"Let me get this straight," Van began after a moment. "You say that Dilandau was taken by the Madoushi and had his memory erased back to roughly the middle of the Great War."

"Yes," Leitken said. He was glad his voice was steady. "When you killed all the Dragonslayers."

_I shouldn't have said that._

Van's eyes flashed. He leaned in and put a fist on the wall, right next to Leitken's left ear.

"And so after this little, induced amnesia,' you were sent by the sorcerers with a plausible explanation for the memory gaps," Van said, staring Leitken full in the face.

Leitken chose not to open his mouth. He nodded back, and made himself meet Van's gaze. He might not be the bravest individual on the planet, but he was made of pretty stern stuff.

"And so Dilandau was reinstated in the Zaibach army, in charge of a whole spanking new set of Dragonslayers. Wonderful. Dragonslayers, which he took out into the woods for a wacky camping trip and left them to come kill me," Van looked down at his feet and shook his head.

Leitken nodded. "Yes, but he had lapses, Your Majesty. The started after your visit to the country. After he destroyed the training center, he was unconscious for awhile, but sometimes he would wake up and he'd remembered what had happened. The sorcerersthey put a stop to that. And then he—"

"Stop!" Van commanded. His face snapped back to Leitken's, eyes dark with fury. His fist moved from the wall and grabbed a handful of Leitken's short purple curls. Van straightened up, pulling Leitken up so that the shorter boy was standing on tiptoe.

"So," Van said, voice dripping with malice, "All the while you knew what was going on, you saw, _firsthand_, the pain Dilandau was going through and you did _nothing? _Is that how care about your beloved commander?!"

"I take orders," was all Leitken could offer. He was disgusted with himself as well.

Van's hand moved from his hair to his throat, pinning Leitken to the wall and cutting off his air supply. Surprised, Leitken's eyes went wide and he raised his two hands to try and pry Van's fingers from his throat.

"Why didn't you help him if you knew what was going on? Why did you just leave him to thosethose bastards! Why? Why!"

The fingers closed fully around his throat. Leitken's vision became hazy, Van's furious face outlined in fuzzy black. He clawed at the hand that held him, but as his oxygen levels dropped, so did his hands. As unconsciousness overtook him, the last thing he heard was Van shrieking the word "why" over and over again.

~*~

Dilandau awoke dazed. He felt groggy, a sensation that, while it wasn't completely alien, was certainly rare in his corner of the world. When Dilandau woke up, he usually woke _up_—as in jumping out of the bed, grabbing his sword, and off to massacring. But no, now he was bleary-eyed, suffering from a headache, and experiencing extreme confusion as to where he was. 

The ceiling above him looked familiar, plain and well made, probably carved from human hands. He'd been here beforeDilandau waved away whatever thoughts he had entertaining the possibility of capture. No one got their hands on Dilandau Albatou twice. Actually, no one ever had captured him except—Van! This was Van's room! 

Suddenly, everything came flooding back. Well, most of it.

Dilandau shot up into a sitting position, back ramrod straight and head swimming from the sudden change. How the heck had he gotten back to Fanelia? The last thing he remembered was leaving the Dragonslayers to come hereobviously he had made it. 

_Shit!_ Dilandau thought, _don't tell me I'm starting to just become forgetful._

He was pleased to see that the effects of his special-ordered Madoushi brainfry had worn off. Gods, he had to get to Van and explain why he'd behaved so strangely at that meetingand certainly clear up the reasons for being so late in getting away from the hellish country.

Dilandau sprang out from the bed and immediately noticed something different—under his undershirt he had a bandage covering his ribs and his shoulder. Gingerly he touched his ribs; they screamed in protest. That was odd in itself. He thought they were almost healed. And what the heck was wrong with his shoulder?

He felt himself get grumpy. Dilandau didn't like to be confused. 

"I SAID, get back into that bed this instant!"

Dilandau knew that voice. _Please, tell me I am dreaming this._

A flighty mass of blonde hair and a nauseating amount of pink flooded his vision. There, standing right in front of him, was Princess Millerna Sarah Aston, her blue eyes blazing and one long, manicured finger pointed at his chest.

"Excuse me?" Dilandau asked. He really did not have time for this. He had to find Van, _now._

"Yes, excuse you! Get back in that bed right now!" Millerna yelled, poking his abused ribs with each word. 

The discomfort and annoyance sharpened Dilandau's mind. Memory came bleeding in, as well did his rage. There had been a duel, he recalleda duel with Van. 

But why?

"You have got to be shitting me," he said. Millerna's eyes sparked. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best way to handle the situation. Trying his damndest not to get mean (hurting annoying fluffy women would not win him Brownie points with one king of Fanelia), Dilandau switched tactics. "Where's Van?"

"With a prisoner, but that doesn't concern you. GET BACK IN THAT BED THIS INSTANT BEFORE I GET UGLY!" Millerna screeched.

"Heh. Seems as if it's a little too late for that," Dilandau said with a very condescending tone. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. His anger flared with Millerna's screaming—he didn't take well to being yelled at. "Look Princess, I—"

"Queen!" Millerna interjected.

Dilandau's eyes darkened. "I don't give a shit if you're a Gaean God, girlie. I need to talk to Van and you're not going to stop me."

Quicker than thought, he reached out and pinned Millerna's arms to her sides, then picked her up. Immediately, he almost dropped her as pain exploded through his right hand. _Damn_, where did that come from?

And then his memory unwound itself a bit—Celena was at the duel. An image of a girl, skewering her own hand flashed through Dilandau's mind. Why the hell had she done that?

He quelled the pain by stubbornly ignoring it. Millerna's eyes grew to the size of saucers and she placed her hands on Dilandau's chest in protest, but thankfully didn't push down. Good, because he didn't want to hurt anyone.

Carefully, he set her down to the side of him and began walking to the door. As he did so, he looked over his shoulder to see the shocked expression of the Prin—Queen.

"Never forget who I am, Queen Millerna," he said, words poisoned, "And don't get in my way."

He was out the door before she had a chance to respond. And looky here: a guard. 

Great.

Dilandau had to move fast, now that he was weaponless, charging straight at the man, he instantly had wrapped one hand around the soldier's throat and the other around the man's testicles. Effective, and if anyone saw what was going on it was always good for gossip.

"Drop your sword or you're never going to be much of a family man," he said.

Sound of metal clattering on the ground. Dilandau's skin broke out in goosebumps at the familiar sound. With a quick pinching movement of his lower hand, the guard's eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped to the ground, almost unconscious. 

Dilandau picked up the sword. "Which way to the dungeons? Be quick."

"I" The man was wheezing in the most annoying high-pitched voice. Dilandau ignored it as best he could. "Rather diethan let alike you hurt myking."

Dilandau clucked his tongue and narrowed his eyes. "Why would I hurt him?"

The guard looked shocked. "It's whatdo."

Dilandau felt his face crumble, but he couldn't help it. Pain rushed through him, and this time it wasn't the result of any injury. Without taking his eyes off of the guard's face, he backed away. Finally, he turned to his right and took off running.

As his steps pounded into the palace floor, he suddenly remembered it all. His tired, prodded and poked mind suddenly burst forth, and he understood everything that had transpired from the day he was born.

It made him feel old. It made him feel stupid. It made him feel used.

Worst of all, it made him hurt.

~*~

**rainjewel:** I am terrible. Absolutely terrible, aren't I? And you'd thought you'd get a reunion! HA! I'll show you all! Oh ff.net's back up, isn't it wonderful? I'm so happy! Time to upload all my ficcies I've been messing around with.

**Ryan:** Please, don't release that waste into the public. It's not a nice thing to do.

**rainjewel: **Oh whatever. You're my muse! If my stuff sucks it's YOU'RE fault.

**Ryan: **I do not take part in whatever drivel comes out of your head after two daiquiris and a couple of Coronas.

**rainjewel: **I lost my Internet connection and I had to result to watching CATS twenty-seven times a day. At the time I thought a fanfic would be interesting.

**Ryan:** At the time you could barely stand, yet you still managed to sing all the words to "Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat" at the top of your lungs. I call that mentally deranged.

**rainjewel:** Your point?

**Ryan:** *sighs* That's it. I'm going to go watch ALADDIN.


	19. Kayla

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Eighteen: And the Women Bleed

~*~

__

"Once the game is over, the king and the pawn go back in the same box." 

~ _Italian Proverb_

~*~

Van had ceased to think. It was painful and too confusing for him to handle anymore. He was dimly aware that in his clenched fist he was squeezing a man to death, that he was screaming incoherently like a madman.

But it didn't get under his skin. He was calm, uncaring, and dead to the world. Nothing mattered in the world. Locked in a little black room, a coffin, he was. Nothing could reach him, nothing could help him, and nothing could stop him.

And he didn't give a flying fuck. Maybe he could die. Take his sword and slit his throat, letting his blood flow on the stone floors like liquid relief.

__

No, said Van's moral conscience, popping up,_ no, you have to live. You have to run this country._

Was Fanelia worth it? Did a thousand people he didn't know outweigh all the pain and suffering he was going through? He had never wanted to be king. Was this damn country he'd fought for out of duty only…was it worth losing Dilandau and marrying a woman he didn't love any more? Did it matter though? Dilandau was already lost, Leitken had just assured him of that. The sorcerers had removed all chances of him ever remembering his past with Van. Dilandau's rebirth, his absolution, wasn't even a memory.

__

He's not going to get better. Dilandau is lost to me forever. I'll never love Hitomi. I have a duty to this country—to rule it and to produce its future king. I have nothing but duty anymore.

Duty was all he had to live for anymore. 

Live…

Van realized what he needed to do. He had to go through with his marriage to Hitomi. He had to have an heir. And Dilandau…Dilandau had to die. They could never…never…they could never be lovers again. They were meant to be enemies—Dilandau was created to destroy him. 

__

I am the reason Dilandau was born, and I will be the reason he dies.

Van's eyes snapped into focus. His hands dropped to his sides. Leitken dropped to the ground, face red and lips purple. He wasn't dead…but he was close. His ragged, wheezing breaths filled the cell. 

Van didn't feel a thing. 

The heavy sound of the prison door scraping the ground resonated through the room. Through the now open doorway the sound of Verdi's screaming filled the cell, punctuated with the dull thud of a guard's body hitting the ground.

The door slammed shut, the noise choked and quieted. Now the only new sound was that of another person's breath. Van recognized it instantly.

He withdrew his sword and turned.

A pale hand on the door. Silvered hair slightly mussed. Bare feet on the floor.

Ruby eyes gleaming.

Internally, something inside Van twitched.

Dilandau opened his mouth to say something, but Van strode forward quickly, determined. Without a warning, he brought his blade to the pale throat of the older boy and pressed him back against the door. He thrust a knee at the right hand holding a sword, knowing the weakness that lay there. Dilandau's harsh intake of breath was delicious and the weapon dropped to the floor.

Van was surprised; so was Dilandau. He didn't think he'd have pinned Dilandau so easily—obviously his actions weren't expected. Van stared right into Dilandau's eyes, realizing for the first time that he'd grown quite a bit during the other boy's absence. They were the same height now. And, Van realized, the same age.

__

Sixteen years…that's all I can give to him.

"Van?" Dilandau whispered. "What are you doing?"

__

You don't want to know.

"I know your secret," Van replied. 

His voice sounded alien to him. He sounded like his brother. Dead.

Dilandau frowned. "Van, the only thing I have now are a bag full of memories I wish weren't true. Van, you have to believe me, when I went to Zaibach they—"

"Erased your memory? Replaced it with a new one?" Van finished for him.

"Exactly! But I—"

"Remembered."

Dilandau looked at Van with mild irritation. Number one, he hated being interrupted, and number two, if Van knew all this he shouldn't be sitting here with a blade against his throat.

"I know you're lying," Van said. "I know that you're acting now, just like you did at the beginning with Celena."

"You're wrong," Dilandau said, looking down at Van with bewilderment in his eyes.

"Cut it out," Van said flatly. "I know it's not your fault. I'm going to destroy Zaibach for what they've done. But you're the most dangerous enemy I have, one that I can't beat…except maybe now."

Dilandau blinked slowly. "You're going to kill me."

It was then that Van realized Dilandau had changed. Back in the days of the Great War, Dilandau was immature, angry, and arrogant. When he was Van's lover he was broken, moody, and sad.

This Dilandau was strong. This Dilandau was wise. But this Dilandau was still violent and custom made for destruction. All the greater the need for his demise.

"Van," Dilandau whispered, "If I was acting, would I know about manipulating you when I was Celena? They programmed me to remember _nothing_. How can I tell you exactly how Allen and Gaddes died, how you flew me up on the roof that one day. Would I remember how we went to Zaibach, how we…how I killed Zlain, and then…" Dilandau closed his eyes. "…Then how I…cried."

"Stop it," Van said.

"What about coming to Fanelia, Merle locking herself in her room? Taking all the thorns off of Celena's roses, when you made me go shopping with Celena…when we…we…"

"_Stop!_"

Dilandau's eyes flew open again. "What about Celena? If you think I truly am still the monster I was made to be, is my death worth hers?"

Van stilled. He stared into Dilandau's eyes. His numbness broke and he felt how much he wanted to believe the silver-haired boy's words. And Celena…was her death worth his duty? His godforsaken duty?

__

I can't believe him.

Ruby eyes were drowning him. Van floundered, trying to keep a grip on his resolve.

With a flick of his wrist, he sliced into the torch beside the door, the room's only illumination. It fell to the ground, sputtered, and died.

"You can't look me in the face, can you?" Dilandau said. For once it wasn't his usual mocking voice. Van wondered if he'd ever hear it again.

Without the light, the feel of Dilandau's body was magnified ten fold. Every familiar angle, every slippery silky feel of Dilandau's skin pinned beneath his cried out to Van. Heat from Dilandau's wounds washed over Van's face, the faint smell of roses invaded his nostrils. 

"Even if I believed you," Van whispered, trying to ignore the rise and fall of Dilandau's stomach beneath him as the soldier breathed, "What does it change? We can't go back. It's all too different."

"I can't explain that to you unless you truly believed me, Pigeon."

Van flinched. Dilandau's breathing hitched, and Van realized he'd nicked him with the sword. 

"You'd let me kill you," Van whispered, "Wouldn't you?"

"If the only person you love, more importantly, the only person who's ever _loved you_, wants only to kill you, there isn't a point to living, now is there?"

"If I put my sword down, I could still kill you before you could get yours."

"I could kill you without using a sword Van. I've spent my entire life as a murderer, and I was better at it when I was six then you are at sixteen."

No deception, no cleverness. And he wasn't trying to show off.

"You're asking me to trust you, Dilandau."

"You asked it of a country. I'm not saying it's easy or that I deserve it. But it'll be the only thing that can save…us."

Van grew quiet and his body stiffened. His country had no reason to accept Dilandau, yet he had pleaded with them to trust his judgment and keep the young man. Dilandau trusted his judgement—he was asking Van to trust him with the truth.

Dilandau made one final plea. "Van, I'm not going to try to kill you. I love you in immeasurable amounts. The sorcerers were wrong—they've always been wrong about me, underestimated what I could do. I wasn't supposed to be able to separate from Celena. I wasn't supposed to be able to care about anyone else. It's my word against there's. Pigeon, please, believe _me_."

Van closed his eyes. "I'm the only person in the world you'd ever beg."

"Yes."

Logic was squashed under emotion. Duty was thrown out the door. Van's heart opened itself one last time. 

Van lowered his sword and stepped back, tears streaming down his cheeks. If Dilandau was lying, it didn't matter. He would welcome his death rather than his duty or the death of this beautiful boy.

"I'll believe you."

His sword clattered on the ground.

Before he could take another breath, arms were around him, a familiar body was folded against his, fitting perfectly. Lips brushed lightly over his cheeks, hands ran through his hair and down his back.

Van bent, broke, and finally collapsed. Dilandau carried him to the ground, then gathered him up, cradling him.

"I missed you. Oh gods I missed you," Dilandau whispered, tucking Van's head under his chin.

Van clung to Dilandau's shirt. He was sobbing uncontrollably and couldn't pin down the reason why. He was sad, he was happy, he was scared…he was loved.

"I didn't understand," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand—I never thought…"

"It's all right. Everything's okay now," Dilandau said. "It'll work out, I promise."

Van wiped his tears away. "I didn't want to marry her."

"I know," Dilandau whispered.

"I love you. I don't care what happened, I really don't," Van said. Tears fell from his eyes, but he was no longer sobbing.

And so it went. For over an hour they sat together, Van and Dilandau, curled together, cuddled like cats. A constant stream of apologies, promises, and vows poured forth from their mouths as they reaffirmed the love that they felt for each other. Finally the words stopped and the kisses began, followed swiftly with the sweet touches they remembered so well and had missed for so long.

It was still too new, too confusing, and too painful for more than that. But they were together again and for now, it was enough.

~*~

Celena closed the door to the room that held Princess Eries and Merle, then slumped against the hallway wall. She felt drained of all energy. Queen Millerna had sent her down here to be looked after by the two, not wanting her to "hamper" the queen when Dilandau finally woke up. Celena had tried to explain that she wouldn't help Dilandau as long as he was acting crazy, but Millerna hadn't believed her.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing in her right hand. The connection…Celena couldn't even begin to search for it. She had been so certain of it when she slammed the blade into her hand. She knew that it still pulsed deep inside her, a spiritual bond that would last until the day they died.

All Celena was left with was responsibility. If she died, she murdered Dilandau.

She sobbed, brokenly against the wall, wails reaching the heavens with piercing sorrow.

~*~

Dilandau brushed Leitken's sweaty hair away from his face. The violet-haired Dragonslayer lay upon a soft bed, armor stripped and comfy as you please. Dilandau had always made it custom to sit beside the injured men of his command, and Leitken was no different.

Princess Millerna was slumped in a chair across from him on the other side of the bed. Her hair was undone and her hands red from all the work she had done this day. Verdi, long black hair gleaming and hard green eyes blazing, sat beside the queen. Her gaze promised an immeasurable amount of pain if he should try anything "funny" concerning her king. The king himself was leaning against Dilandau, eyes closed but not sleeping. The pale young man kept his arm around Van, but the other rested with the soldier on the bed.

Dilandau sighed, staring at Leitken's face. The boy's neck was bruised and slightly swollen. It probably hurt like hell—he made a mental note to get some hard liquor sent to this room, no matter what Millerna said. She had been not the least bit flustered after his rather dramatic departure from his room, and the minute he had the common sense to get Leitken to her for medical attention, she had promptly slapped him across the face.

His blood boiled at that thought, but he said nothing. Restraint was needed for some situations. When dealing with royalty, it was key.

Verdi had been banging on the prison door the whole time Van and Dilandau were in there, screaming for guards and other such nonsense. Her voice had been broken with fear. She might have been the Ice Queen from Hell, Dilandau thought, but she loved her king and country, and was not about to let any harm come to them. When the two boys had finally picked up Leitken's limp form, Van wincing, the king had yelled through the walls to tell Verdi to make sure there weren't any soldiers at the door. He then explained the situation to his advisor, who despite all the chatting, greeted them with her own sword poised and ready for action.

Van had paled at the sight. Dilandau had all but laughed. It was apparent that Verdi had never held a sword in her life, but it was quite moving to see a woman so emboldened to risk her life for that of her king's. Never mind that if Dilandau were going to have harmed Van, he would have done it within the hour they were in there.

Details, details.

Van shifted in his seat beside him. Dilandau dropped his arm as the king leaned back, opening his eyes. Van caught his hand just as it brushed past his thigh and entwined his gloved fingers with Dilandau's bare ones. The dark-haired boy smiled at him and Dilandau felt his face soften.

Van looked across the bed. 

"You know Verdi, your face might stick that way," he said gently.

Verdi's sour expression didn't change, but her face flushed a bit.

"Come on, Verdi," Dilandau said, biting back a smirk. "You have to admit that this is definitely a step up from trying to kill him."

"I'd prefer you homicidal all the same. At least then there's a valid reason to kill you," Verdi said. Her eyes were dark.

Dilandau was just about to open his mouth with a biting retort when a wave of pain washed over him. His hand spasmed, clenching Van's fingers mercilessly. His other flew to his chest before he could stop it. Dilandau gasped raggedly at the sensation, drawing concerned looks from both Van and (surprisingly) Verdi.

"Dilandau!" Van said, grabbing the other boy by the shoulders. "Dilandau, what is it!"

In response, all Dilandau could do was lean into the strong hands holding his shoulders. The feeling was one of immense grief, seeping through his frame, its epicenter his heart. It was so overwhelming he could barely think…but he identified it almost immediately as an emotion that was not his own.

Which could only mean one thing…

Verdi was shaking Millerna, panicked, loudly calling the queen's name. Dilandau felt his stomach drop and his eyes began to burn. With a cough he trapped the sensation under the resolute fist of his dogged will power. He waved his hand at Verdi and the bleary-eyed Millerna, then looked to Van.

"I'm okay," he said, voice strained. He slumped back against the chair, eyes closing slightly, blurring the image of Van's frightened face. "It's Celena…I'm gonna…see if I can help."

"What should I do?" Van whispered, but Dilandau wasn't interested in answering.

Never in his life had he expected Celena to feel something this deeply. It didn't fit his perception of who she was. Dilandau sank into himself, but made sure he could always feel the soft pressure of Van's hands on his body. He needed to help Celena…he needed to help himself.

He had, or rather _Celena_ had, tried to communicate with him via their unnatural link only once. It had, quite frankly, scared him shitless and he had shut out the alien voice in his head quicker than you can say "boo." It was only later that he realized it was Celena, testing the powers of their bond. He believed that after that he had said it had scared _her_ whenever the subject was brought up.

He wasn't scared this time.

The grief inside him surged. He caught it, felt where it stemmed. 

__

Celena?

Sorrow flooded his senses. Dilandau doubled over in pain. He was vaguely aware of Van's arms around him, or of the groan that left his lips.

__

Celena?

****

D-Dilandau?

He shuddered…or was it her?

__

Celena, are you all right? What's wrong!

****

I'm sorry Dilandau-chan, I'm so sorry! Gods, I should never have done that to you! 

Dilandau heard himself moan again as the pain swelled. He held fast to the image in his head of a blonde-haired girl.

__

Celena, it's all right. I'm fine! You didn't do anything wrong.

****

But I hurt you. I betrayed you, Dilandau-chan! I betrayed myself! I wasn't loyal to you. I shouldn't let anything come between—

I wasn't myself, Dilandau lied. He didn't want to think of how _like_ himself his actions at the wedding were.

**__**

But—

When people are doing things you think are wrong, always_ do what's necessary to make them stop. Be true to what you hold right._

Silence.

__

Celena?

Nothing. The grief ebbed and died completely. The connection was lost.

Dilandau jerked violently as he came out of his trance. His eyes flew open and he inhaled sharply.

Van was holding Dilandau close, pressing him against his chest as if to protect him from the world. Both boys were on their knees, chairs pushed back and abandoned. 

Gently Dilandau leaned back. Van's concerned, bright brown eyes raked over his face. Dilandau rearranged his puzzled expression into something more neutral. He shook himself, trying to piece together actuality.

"So," he said offhandedly, "is it always that intense?"

The fierceness left Van's gaze.

"Only for the first couple of times. It gets easier."

Dilandau raised an eyebrow. He looked over to Millerna, Verdi, and Leitken. The young soldier had woken up during the commotion and all were staring at him in shock. A slight twinge of embarrassment crept through Dilandau. Ignoring it, he broke free of Van's embrace and stood.

"I need to find Celena immediately."

As if on cue, the door on the far side of the room shuddered with a blaring _thump_. The handle jerked and held.

"What is it?" whispered Millerna, voice fearful. "What's going on!"

Dilandau was already speeding to the door. He twisted around, catching the keys Van threw his way. The action was automatic, fluid, and unnerving to the others in the room. For boys who had been enemies for so long they worked together with odd grace.

There was another _thump_ against the door. Flipping through the keys, Dilandau selected a small, heavy, gold one. He didn't know if it was the right one or not, but it _looked_ as if it might work. He buried it in the keyhole and twisted it.

The door unlocked with a hiss. Dilandau's well-contained anxiety began to surface and he yanked the door open with a violent tug. 

Celena, seconds from ramming the door again, charged straight into Dilandau before he could react. He stumbled back a few steps then fell hopelessly to the floor. Celena, momentum suddenly gone, took one shaky step but managed to stay upright.

Dilandau propped himself up on his elbows. Celena put a hand to her forehead, looking dizzy, and then her gaze fell on Dilandau.

Her blue eyes filled with more tears as Dilandau took in the wet face, ragged lilac dress she never changed out of, and the disheveled curls.

"Celena," he said softly. 

"Dilandau-chan," Celena whispered. She dropped to her knees at once, then wrapped her arms around Dilandau's waist. He sat up as best he could, hands running through her hair and down her back as she cried into his chest.

The other occupants quietly became intrigued by other various distractions. 

Dilandau was at a loss. There wasn't a way to convene what he felt, what he wanted to say to Celena. He supposed there must have been some choices made in his creation that affected this. The sorcerers must have been forced to choose between good looks or good communication skills.

Dilandau wasn't about to complain.

In the end, it didn't even matter. Celena knew how he felt and vice versa. Pain turned to relief, relief to joy. A thousand apologies drifted through their shared hearts. A million wordless phrases passed between them, mending and soothing the damage of the past colors until Celena's tears had disappeared and her eyes lost their wetness. 

Finally, after a long embrace that patched their souls, Dilandau broke the silence.

Gently he kissed her golden head of curls. "I love you, Celena. I'll love you forever."

Celena bobbed up in his arms, pressing her cheek to his.

"Me too, Dilandau-chan. Me too."

~*~

Millerna rose quietly from Leitken's bedside. The purple-haired boy was sleeping soundly, still battling the after effects of the poisoned dart and coping with Van's attack. She though he was an utter _doll_—no machismo, no bloodlust, just a simple nice guy who went in the army out of duty. He was as close as a straight man could get to becoming the perfect male.

She cast a glance at the other occupants of the room. Van, Dilandau, Celena, and Merle were all clumped together on the floor, sound asleep. Celena was huddled close to Dilandau's back, his fingers loosely entwined with hers as he lay on his side. Van was on his back, Merle's head pillowed on his chest. Strangely, Dilandau was curled around Van _and_ Merle, the catgirl's body trapped between the two.

__

And who'd a thunk? Millerna thought, smiling as she closed the door behind her and stepping out into the hall. The air was cool. Nighttime had fallen, which would explain everyone's sudden drowsiness. Celena, Leitken, Dilandau, and Van had been chatting forever. Verdi had stepped out long ago, muttering something about "having a country to run." Merle, though accepting of the weird situation, was silent.

It had been a long, hard day. Millerna began to walk down the hallway. Despite the rapidly approaching autumn, this day had been rather warm, causing Millerna to gather her hair on top of her head in a poofy yet still beautiful bun. Absently she felt the stickiness on the back of her neck with the clean hands of a surgeon, annoyed. She wondered if the sweat was from the unseasonable heat or the emotional stress.

So many things to take in all at once; there were so many questions in her head without any answers.

She had accepted the love between Van and Dilandau with little hesitation. Over the past colors she'd opened her eyes to the world and gotten over the terrifying concept of homosexuality. Seeing two men holding hands or a pair of girls kissing had become common place for Millerna. Under her rule the misfits of other kingdoms were flocking and prevailing in Asturia.

No, it certainly wasn't the idea of two men having "relations" that bothered Millerna—it was the fact that the last time she checked Dilandau was a card-carrying psychopath.

But explanations had come and gone. There wasn't any excuse for Dilandau's recent actions—but they were understandable. They weren't the manic, bloodthirsty concepts and tactics the pale soldier was known for. He had been cold and calculating, reacting more out of pain than of sadism. He had fought under an umbrella of lies.

__

However, Millerna thought, _Jeture help him should anything like this ever come to pass another time._

A loud shattering sound cut short Millerna's thoughtful steps. She paused, looking about the hall. A strident shriek followed by another twinkling of glass broke through the still air.

Hitomi.

Millerna heaved an internal sigh, despite her empathy for the girl. Hitomi had never been strong. She had never been able to stand on her own without anyone's help, or to deal with large shocks to her emotions. She could be moved to courage should a loved one be threatened, but Millerna couldn't help but think that was because the girl couldn't (subconsciously) bear the solidarity should someone die.

She went to the room she thought the cry had come from. Millerna was in an old, mostly unused section of the palace—it was damaged by the destruction of Fanelia but was so unimportant no one had bothered repairing it. It largely consisted of old advisory offices, most of which were abandoned before even Goau's time.

Millerna quietly opened the door to the room. Standing, green eyes bright and face rigid, clothes mussed, was Hitomi Kanzaki. She was staring at a broken paperweight on the ground, left hand clenched on the side of an old office desk. Moving slowly and quietly, Millerna edged to the back of the room and sat behind the desk, watching Hitomi's tense back. She knew the strange girl would talk when she was ready. She would listen, counsel, and do whatever she could for her friend, just as they had always done for each other during the war.

After a minute or two, Hitomi straightened up. Millerna gazed at the honey-colored head and waited, hands primly in her lap.

"It's sick," Hitomi said, finally. Her voice was quiet, but her fingers skittered at her sides like angry spiders.

Millerna raised an eyebrow at the uncharacteristic reaction. "Hm?"

Hitomi whirled around. Her face was stony and pink, her green eyes penetrating. She walked to the desk, picked up the last paperweight, then began shuffling it back and forth between her hands. She leaned in closer to Millerna.

"He's with Dilandau. How can that _not_ be sick?" she asked, staring at the paperweight.

"Why is love sick?" Millerna asked.

Hitomi's face contorted and she slammed the paperweight down on the desk. Millerna jumped.

"I'M THE ONE HE'S SUPPOSED TO LOVE!" Hitomi yelled. "I'M THE ONE HE WAS GOING TO MARRY!"

"Marriage and love are two very different things, especially among royalty," Millerna said softly.

"Why Dilandau then? Van needs marriage, not love for Fanelia. Why couldn't he just learn to love me?" Hitomi asked. Her eyes, eyes that saw more than anyone else, began to burn with tears. Her voice wavered as she ended her words.

"I think…" Millerna thought how to word her response. It was apparent Hitomi knew she wasn't going to get to marry Van. "I think that was his intention from the start…but I also believe he cares too much about you and respects you too much to do that."

"But why did it have to be _Dilandau_!" Hitomi screamed. She burst into tears. Her hands hit the edge of the desk. Hitomi fell sobbing to her knees.

Millerna felt an unwelcome wetness rising in her eyes. She quickly stood and went around the desk. She kneeled by Hitomi's side and put her hands on the shorter girl's shoulders. Hitomi sobbed even harder and leaned against Millerna.

__

This is why I dislike men—women always are willing to weaken themselves for them.

"I thought if I came back…I thought he would have married for an heir…I shouldn't have left…but Dilandau…" words tumbled from Hitomi's mouth, fragmented by emotion.

Millerna was a doctor. Doctors help people in need, even if it was painful.

"Hitomi, it hurts, I know. Van loves you. His heart is large and compassionate beyond measure, as is yours. You and him are so kind, good, and wonderful—almost identical in personality. But you can't seem to understand each other. Do you know yourself Hitomi?"

The girl frowned. "No."

"Then," Millerna said sadly, "You cannot understand him. Van needs Dilandau for that very reason. Those two feed off each other and create something beautiful."

"Van needs a psychopath to understand him? How does an insane albino's undoubtedly skewed perception of the world make Van love him?" Hitomi whispered bitingly.

"Hitomi," Millerna said, fighting to keep irritation out of her voice, "Talk to Dilandau. Talk to Van. Then you will see."

Hitomi sniffled against Millerna's sleeve. "Even if they need each other…it still hurts, Millerna. More than you would ever know."

Millerna smoothed the girl's hair with a pale hand.

"My sister Eries once said it's always the women who end up getting hurt. Sometimes, I'm very inclined to think it's true."

~*~


	20. Aida

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Chapter Nineteen: First Aid

****

rainjewel: *sings* "Ooga ooga ooga chaka! Ooga ooga ooga chaka! Ooga ooga ooga chaka! IIIIIIIII'MMM HOOKED ON A FEELING! I'M HIGH ON BELIVIN'! THAT YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH MMMMEEEEEEEE!!!!"

****

Ryan: Uh, yeah. And people wonder why I listen to the Beatles. Less "ooga's."

****

rainjewel: *giggles*

~*~

Leitken was having a pleasant dream about puppies. Warm, squirming, little bodies that licked his face and made him laugh. He had always liked puppies, so dependent, so loving, so unassuming. However, the loud yet distant sounds of steel boots raised him from the heated mass of fur that surrounded him. The thudding was unmistakable to his well-trained ears. He woke quickly and efficiently.

His dark eyes flashed open. He was on a guest balcony, overlooking the city of Fanelia. He was lying on a reclined lounge chair, blankets wrapped around him. Light wind picked up his hair, trailing violet, curled rivers across his lips and cheeks. It'd been two days since the wedding, but he felt dizzy and lethargic, as he would for days, according to Millerna. Damned poisoned darts.

Another tap of steel-toed boots roused Leitken to a sitting position. He clutched at the blankets around his body and looked to his left. Dilandau stood there, gazing over the edge of the balcony. His white hair danced about his head, ruby eyes gleaming down at the city. He was in full Dragonslayer armor, but his leather jacket was open, purple undershirt peeking through. Leitken could make out a wet stream of blood coursing down the black leather sleeve of Dilandau's right arm, which was casually folded against his chest. The commander had ashes smudged up against his pale skin, and in some spots it looked as if he'd been attacked by a rouge makeup…Leitken knew that only meant one thing—blood spray. He wondered where Dilandau had been.

The violet-haired boy swung his legs over the side of the chair as quickly as he could, dropping the blankets.

"Stay there," Dilandau ordered. "Keep yourself wrapped up."

"Yes, sir," Leitken said. His words came out in a strange whisper, low and hissing. His voice would return in roughly the same time the poison wore off. He couldn't wait.

Dilandau turned to him. "When I ask you a question, raise your hand with an open palm if you mean yes, make a fist if you answer no. Got it?"

Leitken raised an opened hand. He was keenly aware that Dilandau knew that shaking his head no or simply nodding would have made him dizzy. The albino always seemed to know everything about a person.

Dilandau grinned. The blood crinkled on his face. Leitken now saw the streaks of red in his hair, as well as darker, sooty patches. No, he definitely didn't want to know what Dilandau had been up too. 

"You and I are not going to return to Zaibach," the pale man said. "Ever. Would you like to stay here in Fanelia?"

Open hand. Leitken breathed in deeply. 

"Would you consider working in the palace?"

Open hand.

"As a soldier?"

Leitken hesitated. Looking away from the penetrating eyes of his commander, an act that would probably result in a slap, he raised a closed fist.

Dilandau giggled, sweet and deep. "You're such an honest boy. Good. Don't ever lie to your commander."

"Sir—"

"You never wanted to be a soldier, did you, Leitken?" Dilandau asked, tossing his windswept hair loftily.

"Never," Leitken hissed. His deep eyes found Dilandau's. 

The armored boy raised his eyebrows. "Well, seeing as how I've abandoned the Zaibach army, the damn bastards…I'm out of a job, and so are you. From now on Leitken, you are free from my control. Go be a civilian."

Leitken stared. "Sir?"

Dilandau's face turned serious. 

"I don't do this easily, Leitken. Don't 'sir' me again. I didn't train you to be this dimwitted. You're no longer under my command. You are no longer part of any military outfit. I'll ask Van about having you work here in the palace," he said, voice low. A drop of blood fell from his jacket sleeve to the stone balcony floor.

"Thank you, Dilandau-sama…er…Dilandau-san," Leitken said, words rolling of his tongue at an odd angle. To not honor Dilandau's name would be suicidal in Leitken's mind till the day he died.

"Don't ever forget who I am, Leitken," Dilandau said smoothly. He walked up close to Leitken's chair and leaned over slightly. "You weren't that bad a soldier. Viole would have been proud."

And with that the silver-haired man straightened, turned, and walked crisply from the balcony.

Leitken settled back in his chair, fighting down the lump that had suddenly arisen in his throat.

~*~

The roses were dying. As the cooler colors approached the roses began to wilt, one by one.

Merle looked upon them without emotion. This had ceased being her rose garden a long time ago. Celena owned it now, deservedly so.

Everything was leaving. She was being left with nothing. Van was torn between Dilandau, Hitomi, and his duty as king. She had been his less-than-official advisor for months…but only as a way to get closer to him. She never left—never even threatened his life—and here she stood, forgotten.

But surprisingly enough, she wasn't bitter. She like Hitomi well enough, but it was apparent the girl from the Mystic Moon wasn't going to get Van. Dilandau…why care anymore? Why feel? If Dilandau killed Van…well, her king was dead to her all ready. Disengaging from emotions, from living, was easier. All that was left to live was pain.

Most people would feel suicidal in her mindset, Merle supposed. Weaklings. If there was one thing she learned, nothing ever changed or got better. It was all one long, dull existence, pained only if you let it, and never happy.

Merle had lost her spark, lost her spirit—a sacrifice to the happiness of the only person she felt anything for.

There was a swirl of pink fabric. Celena sat beside Merle, the hem of her long pink skirt showing the tips of what were undoubtedly knee-high (or even taller) white leather boots. Celena had a thing for boots. Merle didn't know if it was an after-effect of all those years as Dilandau (his boots were _ridiculous_) or if Celena had just always preferred boots. 

"Hello, Merle," Celena said cheerfully.

Merle swiveled her head. "Good day, Celena."

"Why are you out here?" Celena asked. She plucked a few dead blooms from the bushes and watched them fall from her fingers to the ground.

"No need to be in the palace," Merle replied in monotone.

The blonde girl's eyes sharpened and her golden curls stilled.

"What's wrong, Merle?"

"Nothing."

"You never say 'Good day,' and you certainly never worry about whether you're needed when you decide to go anywhere. There has to be something up. You're usually more…energetic."

"I grew up."

"What?" Celena picked a white rose from a nearby bush.

Merle was all ready tired of this conversation. She wasn't going to waste any energy arguing.

"Look, Celena, I have a stomachache. I'm sorry."

"No," said Celena with a shake of her head, "You're unhappy…unhappy about someone."

Merle looked on dumbly.

"You're unhappy about Van and Dilandau-chan, aren't you?" Celena continued. She leaned in and put the white rose in Merle's hair. "They're in love, you know."

Merle held back a flinch. "If Van-sama's happy, I'm happy."

"That's stupid. You should be happy for yourself," Celena said.

"I won't spend my life crying," Merle said darkly. "What do you know anyway? You're still 5 years old in your mind."

Celena's hand shot out and gripped Merle's wrist. "In some ways, I'm much, much older. You've changed, though. You grew up fast, Merle."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Merle replied, nervous. Celena sounded almost…dangerous. Her fur was bristled at the thought, listlessness leaving her skin.

"Stop living for Van," Celena said, voice still hinting at danger. She caught Merle's face in her hands, blue eyes crashing against blue. "I've lived for Dilandau. You can't do it."

Merle gasped. Quietly Celena rose to her feet. She picked a blood red bloom from a nearby bush. Merle stood, brushing petals off her own blue dress.

"Why don't we go have some fun?" Celena said, mood and voice suddenly bright. "I say we go bother that Leitken fellow—he's rather cute."

Merle stared, dumbfounded by Celena's mood swing. How could she just…oh what the hell.

Carefully Merle let herself hope. She took the subtle hand of Celena, pulling her from the numbness she was all to willing to let take over her soul.

"Well," she said lightly, "He does have a nice face…and his hair's very curly."

Celena giggled and took her by the hand. Merle looked at the other girl's pale hand and smiled—only a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. 

~*~

Millerna always smelled good. It wasn't a scent Hitomi could place—something light and herb-y, though it smelled very feminine at the same time. A marvel to Hitomi, who knew that she could never pull off. Maybe it was a "princess" thing. Correction—a "queen" thing.

Whatever the reason, she was getting a huge whiff of it as she hugged the blonde woman. Millerna was departing today, having a country to run and all. The queen felt confident that everything was going to be peachy in Fanelia. Hitomi felt that nothing was ever going to be peachy again.

Millerna pulled back from the embrace, grinning widely. She patted Hitomi's back, then put a finger on the girl's chin, tipping it towards her.

"You're going to be okay, right?"

Hitomi smiled back. Millerna was her confidant during the Great War. It didn't matter that they were vying for Allen…they had been the only two girls the same age and had become friends mostly out of lack of options…but they were still a great match.

Hitomi patted Millerna's upper arm. "I'll make it."

"Come visit," Millerna said. She turned away to face the carriage that would take her back to Asturia. Eries was all ready inside, staring blankly ahead of her.

"Thanks for everything Millerna," Hitomi said softly. She'd spent the majority of last night alternately talking and sobbing to the other girl.

Millerna got into the carriage. "You were there for me. Talk to them both, Hitomi. It'll help."

Hitomi swallowed. "I-I…I will."

"Well goodbye then," Millerna said. There was a snapping sound as the driver cracked his whip. "You're going to be all right!"

"Good bye!" Hitomi called out as the carriage pulled away. Millerna waved, a pale, gloved hand flashing in the sun.

Hitomi turned around and faced the glittering Fanelian palace. She hadn't seen Van or Dilandau since the wedding. She didn't want to think about where the two had spent the night.

Fear bubbled in her throat. She firmly pushed it down. It was time to chat. Van would be busy with kingly duties, probably…so…that left…Dilandau. Great. She had caught wind that he had left this morning, but it was afternoon now, so she figured that he should have returned. 

Hitomi tightened her grip on her determination. She quickly trudged up the stairs and walked to the residential corridors…and then promptly darted behind a large suit of armor. Walking up the opposite end of the hallway was a very soiled Dilandau Albatou. He was wearing his Dragonslayer uniform, the jacket undone. He paused for a second in the hall, but then sighed and ducked into his room.

Hitomi scuttled down the hall, holding her breath. This was as close to suicidal as she'd ever gotten. It was as if she was throwing herself into a dragon's lair. As she raised her hand to knock on Dilandau's door her nerve faltered. Shivering, she remembered the pain of her loss. 

Her face grew hard once more. She rapped on the door four times.

Nothing.

She knocked again. "Dilandau?"

Silence.

Knowing it was a bad idea, Hitomi tried the knob. It turned easily in her hand, and she quietly let herself into the room.

"I'm coming in. Dilandau?"

She looked around the room. It was clean, bare in fact. It looked like the room of a soldier: one bed, one nightstand, and a dresser. The bed was made and there wasn't a single article of clothing or other personal belonging that made it look lived in, except for one very dirty uniform that was lying on the floor, boots beside it.

Hitomi heard running water in the bathroom, and then realized this was not a good situation to be in. Panicking, she put her hand on the doorknob to leave, when she heard another door opening.

Dilandau stepped into the room, a white towel wrapped around his hips. His ruby eyes were wide and lips thin. A large puncture wound was bleeding on his right arm and a few pale bruises were showing on his sides and arms. Despite the injuries, his pale skin glittered with water, making him look ethereal. Hitomi felt her own eyes widening.

"Uh…sorry…er…hello," Hitomi stuttered. She turned her head and felt the hot blush that burned her cheeks.

"Why are you here?" Dilandau asked. She heard the sounds of him walking to the dresser. 

"I wanted to talk to you," she said, almost whispering.

"Well first you're going to have to look at me. I'm not going to spend a lot of time straining to hear what you have to say," he said.

Hitomi pulled her eyes over in his direction. Dilandau was standing in black pants, a long-sleeved tunic in his hands. He tossed it on his bed, then reached into his dresser and retrieved a large wad of gauze and tape. He sat down on the edge of the bed, then looked up with an "I'm waiting," expression on his face.

"Dilandau, I know we haven't ever really, uh, discussed anything before," she began. "But I have to know a few things."

"I'm not going to answer any question I don't want to," Dilandau said. He wiped the dripping blood from his arm.

"And why not?" Hitomi said. She walked to the front of the dresser, opposite of him on the bed. 

Dilandau ran a hand through his silver locks, smoothing them. "Why should I?"

"I think you owe it to me," Hitomi said, teeth gritted.

"I don't owe you a damn thing," Dilandau said. He wrapped his arm up in gauze, making the white strips blush pink.

"You stole my goddamn life, you punk," Hitomi spit. She felt a sting rising in her eyes, unbidden. _No! Not now, not here, not with him._

Dilandau looked up from under his eyebrows, glaring. "Stole it, did I? You little bitch. I gave _my_ life for yours. Don't even start with me."

"And after how many attempts to kill me?" Hitomi retorted.

Dilandau sat up, patch job done, and smirked. "Not enough."

"You bastard," Hitomi said. She felt a tear course down her cheek. Was this the man that Van had chosen over her? "You…why me, Dilandau? Why did you have to ruin _my_ life?"

"It's not like you won a contest, Hitomi. I wanted Van, not you," Dilandau said. She hated the way his voice rolled through the air like crushed velvet.

"I deserve him. You deserve death," she whispered.

Dilandau's head snapped up. "Is he now a prize for you? That's sick. And what makes you think you deserve him? Because you fought on the good side? Well congratulations. Not all of us can have such wonderful, uncomplicated lives. I had to deal with more shit than you could even fathom, and I still do. You don't deserve Van—you _need_ him. You need him to come to your rescue when the chips are down. Van is not something you get because you _deserve _it. You selfish brat."

"You better love him," she whispered. Hot tears spilled over her cheeks. She lowered her face to her knees, sobbing into her thighs. She heard Dilandau get up off the bed. For a second, his shadow hovered above her and for a moment she thought he was going to comfort her. 

Hitomi raised her head, eyes red and puffy. Dilandau sat in front of her, back to the bed, legs stretched out over the small space between the dresser and bed. He had put on his tunic. His expression was that of boredom. 

"How can you be so cold?" she asked. "You broke my heart, inadvertently or not. How can you just sit there!"

"Would you actually want to be comforted by me?" Dilandau asked, eyebrow cocked. 

Hitomi blushed. "No!"

"Well then don't ask me how I can just sit here."

Hitomi glared. "I hate you."

"I don't hate you," Dilandau said. His hand brushed his side as he shifted his weight, causing him to wince.

Hitomi gaped. "What?"

"If it weren't for you, Van would be dead," he said softly. 

"Probably by you," she spat.

Dilandau's eyes were large. "Undoubtedly by me."

Hitomi smiled wryly. "Fantastic. I saved him only to let you have him the end."

"Is that so bad?" Dilandau asked.

"Yes!" she spat.

Dilandau looked at her like she was something brand new and unseen. "Why?"

Hitomi sneered. "That's obvious. You're insane."

Garnet eyes flamed, making the fear rise up in Hitomi like a tsunami. She masked it with her grief and anger, glaring fiercely at Dilandau.

"You'll need to come up with something better," he said, leaning in. "Obviously you have no idea about me. Hitomi—I'm always in control. Don't ever forget that."

"I fought you once, Dilandau, and I won," she hissed. "I can fight you just as easily again."

"Fighting, yes. Winning, no. Anyone can battle," Dilandau said. "You can fight me all you want. It doesn't matter what we do to each other. It's Van's decision. He picked me."

"And now he'll probably die for it," Hitomi shot back.

Dilandau's face grew very still. He rose to his knees and leaned forward, placing a hand by Hitomi's face.

"You little, whiny bitch. To think Zaibach lost the war to people like you…gods. You know, you can think whatever you want. I _know_ I love Van, and as long as he knows that, you can't touch me. You lose, baby girl," he whispered.

Hitomi's heart thumped. She closed her eyes, avoiding Dilandau's painful gaze. The smell of roses permeated the air.

"Let me see," she whispered.

"What?" Dilandau asked, but instead of answering, Hitomi reached out and grabbed his arm. 

__

Dilandau, being held in the arms of a sleeping Van, surrounded by feathers. The two are smiling, nude and hair mussed. Dilandau's eyes suddenly open up, he leans over the slumbering Van, his mouth whispering the words "I love—

The image of Dilandau lying on a table, younger, face unmarred. His feet, chest, and hands are restricted by large metal bands. The vacant expression of drugged stupor is apparent on his face. A sorcerer stands over him, hands gripping Dilandau's hips. The sorcerer bends down, cutting off what looked like a scream with a kiss. Dilandau struggles against the man uselessly. The sorcerer's hands slip down, down—

Dilandau, crying in the woods again, being rocked by Van as if he were a babe. Kisses being feathered through his hair as he weeps, clinging to Van for dear life. Van whispers, calming Dilandau—

A dark pit, occupied by a single pale figure. It's Dilandau, not more than eight years old. Suddenly three doors open, and through each steps out a large wolf, muzzles frothing and ribs showing. They attack at once, as a pack. Dilandau heaves a sword much too large for his small frame through each, teeth snapping at his tender young limbs. He dances and the blood of the wolves mix with his. The wolves fall. Dilandau looks to a huge rip in his thigh, then faints, falling to—

Dilandau, throwing Van to the ground as a white flash envelopes the bedroom they are in—

Van, grinning as Dilandau flings salad in his face—

Dilandau and Van kissing in a prison cell, tears streaming down their faces—

Hitomi blinked slowly, sweeping the haziness of the vision to the corner of her mind. Dilandau was staring at her, eyes furious. She squeezed his arm instinctively, shocked by the pain in her vision. He winced. Hitomi looked to her hand. A sickening red was blooming beneath her hand. Gasping, she drew her hand back, feeling a thin film of blood on her palm. She had grabbed his bad arm.

She stared into his penetrating gaze. "I…I—"

Dilandau sat back. "Do that again, and I will kill you."

"You love him," she whispered.

"Of course," he said, gaze burning. 

"The wolves, Dilandau, I saw you fighting wolves," Hitomi said. She felt the need to confess.

He raised an eyebrow. "The wolves? That was my first time in the Zoo. That's what they called it. In a year they were dragons. The title "Dragonslayer" is not given easily."

She gaped, and then her cheeks began to burn.

"I…I saw you…on a table—"

Dilandau held up a hand. He looked away, expression indecipherable.

"Don't," he said, and his voice cracked. Hitomi felt tears begin flowing down her cheeks, spilling for a man she hated, a man who had experienced more pain than she could imagine.

"Does Van know?" she asked softly.

Dilandau glared at her, eyes glistening. "Shouldn't you know that too?"

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"Oh don't worry, Hitomi. He only raped my body. Feel free to rape my mind," he said in a cheery tone that was more frightening than any giggle or threat she'd ever heard.

Hitomi started sobbing again.

"Gods you're weak," Dilandau muttered. "Can you deal with anything? Van has enough responsibility as it is. If he had you to look after, he might just lose it."

"Oh, and a bloodthirsty pyromaniac isn't a handful?" Hitomi spat, instantly regretting it. A blanket of empathy had washed over her, making every argument with Dilandau seem childish and in poor taste.

Dilandau rose to his feet, ignoring the comment. He took off his now-bloodied shirt and ripped the bandage with his teeth. He grabbed another long-sleeved tunic from his dresser, this time a dark red one. With a sigh he began bandaging up his arm again.

Hitomi stood up. She snatched the bandaging from his hand. "I caused this, I'll fix it. You're doing a shitty job anyway."

"The last thing I want you to do is touch me," he said.

Hitomi shook. "Please? I'll never do anything like that again."

Dilandau gave her the fiercest glare she'd ever experienced, and for a moment she thought he was going to hit her. But then he slowly raised his arm. Hitomi began wrapping the wound with ease. 

"You're right you know," she whispered. "It's not up to us what happens from here. It's Van's decision."

She finished up and Dilandau slipped his tunic on. Some of the hate had left his eyes.

"He does love you," he said softly.

Hitomi smiled, pained. "Yes. But he loves you. I hate to say it—but you make him happy. I saw that."

An admission she wished she could take back just spilled from her lips. But right after she said it, Hitomi realized the truth in her statement. The happiness she could see between those boys, the need they had for each other was so glaringly apparent it was all she could do to _not_ say it.

Of course, it didn't make the truth any harder to swallow.

"I-I think I'm g-going to leave now," she stuttered, quietly. Dilandau was staring at her, expression slightly surprised.

"I won't say I'm sorry," he said.

Hitomi opened the door. "I wouldn't either. You're one lucky bastard, Dilandau. Don't forget that."

She took a step, then paused. She turned, and with emerald eyes burning almost black, stared Dilandau down.

"And don't you hurt him, Dilandau, or I will kill you," she hissed, "I will go to the ends of this world and mine to hunt you down."

Dilandau raised an eyebrow. "Don't pack any bags."

"It's all ready packed," she replied. A smirk danced across Dilandau's face, but he didn't say anything.

Hitomi closed the door. She made it across the hall to her own bedroom before she collapsed, but not before the last tears came.

~*~

Van's footsteps echoed down the dark hall. It was late, and he'd only just finished soothing the fears of every single advisor, politician, and civilian in all Fanelia. The moonlight streamed down almost too brightly tonight, illuminating his glossy hair and red tunic. This was his third time through the palace and he'd dropped off his royal garb earlier—all he wanted was to find Hitomi.

He sighed, slowing his pace as he rapped on Hitomi's door for what seemed to be the millionth time, but she was nowhere to be found. He wasn't worried she was in danger or anything, because he'd seen that honeyed-head coming back from the family shrine as the sun had set. He had wanted to all out to her, try and soothe the puffiness of her cheeks from tears he'd undoubtedly caused, but Verdi was insistent that he stick to schedule. 

He had cancelled the engagement. This information wasn't public, of course, but Verdi knew, as well as most everyone close to him. It needn't even be said. That had to wait until he found Hitomi.

Van turned to Dilandau's bedroom. He hadn't seen the younger boy since last evening when everyone had fallen asleep in Leitken's room. Dilandau had been gone when he'd awoken, which of course, threw Van into a panic until he'd found Dilandau's note in his back pants pocket.

__

Pigeon -

I'll be back this afternoon Don't worry. I'll make sure to avoid any brainfries.

- D.A.

It wasn't a particularly amusing letter in Van's imagination. However, as he silently slipped into Dilandau's bedroom, he couldn't suppress a small, wearied smile. He approached the bed as quietly as possible, not wanting to wake the lump of blankets that was Dilandau.

He was a step away before a silver head popped up out of the bulky sheets, followed by two disdainful red eyes.

"Pigeon, if I hadn't recognized that ridiculous racket your sword makes, I just might have gutted you," mumbled Dilandau, shedding his blankets and sitting up on the mattress. He casually tossed an unsheathed dagger behind him, lodging it in the windowsill.

Van frowned. "How comforting."

He sat down beside Dilandau, relieving himself of his sword and boots. The paler boy ran a hand down the right side of his face once, twice, then settled his hands in his lap.

"You look tired," Dilandau said, velvety voice balm to Van's wearied ears.

"I've spent the whole day politicking. But most everyone's satisfied—I fixed the country. Gold star to me," Van said, running a hand through his hair. "You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like. I explained the situation—"

"—Situation?" Dilandau cut in.

Van winced. "What the sorcerers had done to you. Brainwashing, fate alteration, etc. It gives you a pardon for any war crimes, based on sympathy alone."

"I don't want sympathy," Dilandau said.

"You have a choice between sympathy and a dark prison cell," Van said. He ran a hand down Dilandau's arm, wanting to emphasize his point. He felt the telltale bulge of a bandage under the blue sleeve. His eyes narrowed, giving his ruby-eyed companion a Look. "So…what did you do today, _Angel_?"

Dilandau raised an eyebrow. "Do you know about the West Zion Academy?"

"The sorcerer school in Zaibach?" He'd heard the name.

"Well the school, along with every capitol-related building in Zaibach is nothing but ashes," Dilandau smirked. "Zaibach's government smolders as we speak."

Van stared. "You burned all those buildings? All those people?"

"No," Dilandau said, voice oddly flat. "I sent a rather large message to Adelphos. The flames were quick, but not the burning. Only the stupid would die in a fire that slow."

Van looked away, pained. "Why is it always destruction with you?"

"I was made for it," Dilandau replied, voice snide. He reached around, catching Van's chin in his hand, making the dark-haired king face him. " I didn't kill anyone Van. And I won't lie—it was hard not to. Instead I took out every single building I could find. I gave everyone a warning before I torched the buildings. All their records are gone, thus taking away their source of power. Fanelia can rebuild Zaibach now, along with her allied nations, in a manner free of sorcery and violence."

"No, now you've just given them reason to come after you…I know they will," Van replied, pushing Dilandau's hand away.

"They know it was me all right, but they can't prove it," Dilandau said, eyes slightly colder. "I 'borrowed' an old Alseides test unit that was lying around, waiting to be scrapped. There are no eyewitnesses to an invisible enemy. I made my point cleanly and poignantly, Pigeon. They also know that if they come after me I'll double their pain."

Van felt his anger burn slowly and dangerously within him. He reached over and grabbed Dilandau by the arms, feeling the bandage underneath his grip, knowing the pressure was forcing it open. He didn't care—Dilandau needed to understand…needed to know that he couldn't pull stunts like this.

"Someone had to see you to stab you," he said.

Dilandau took in Van's scared and angry face with a cool stare. "I killed him."

"You said you didn't kill anyone!" Van yelled. He pressed Dilandau back, but held him above the bed covers.

"I make an exception to people who stab me on the street," Dilandau replied. He looked down at Van's hands. "Van, I know you're worried. There isn't going to be any retaliation from Zaibach. Without the backing of the sorcerers, Adelphos would rather have me out of his hair."

"You don't know that," Van said, his heart pounding.

"Let go of me Van," Dilandau said. Garnet eyes glittered.

Van took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He felt the moonlight on his eyelids, felt the warmth of Dilandau's body before him. Without another thought, he reined in his slipping control.

"Promise me you'll never do another thing like that," he said, opening his eyes. 

Dilandau, features pinched from his annoyance, smirked. "I promise I'll never, ever burn another government to the ground…at least not without consulting you first."

"And?"

"And what?" Dilandau spat. Van Looked at him.

Dilandau's face grew serious. "And never go on any major massacres or anything of the like?"

"That'll do," Van said, smiling. Immediately he let go of Dilandau's arms, who then fell with a _thwack_ into the pillows.

Dilandau rolled his eyes at Van for a short moment, then looked at the fresh bloodstain on his tunic. "Goddamnit. That's twice. You people are beginning to piss me off. I don't have that many clothes."

Van watched him as he slid off the bed and walked over to his dresser. Dilandau sighed, casting aside his shirt and grabbed a black tunic, this time a short-sleeved one. He also threw away the bloody bandage.

"What do you mean, twice? Hey, come here and let me do that," Van said, motioning for Dilandau to come to the bed, bandages in hand

"I had a lovely visit with Hitomi today. She did the same damn thing," Dilandau said softly. He sat beside Van, this time turned to the side so as to help with the bandaging. 

Van finished with a jerk. Dilandau pulled his arm away with a glare.

"Sorry," Van said, scratching his ear. "I swore I just heard you say Hitomi came and talked to you."

Dilandau smoothed the front of his tunic. "I did. We had our first and perhaps our last discussion."

Shock was evident on Van's features. He stood up, facing the door with his back to Dilandau. He put a hand to the forehead. Dear gods, that couldn't have been a pretty conversation. In all his years he'd never heard of anything more unlikely. He'd be less surprised if Princess Eries suddenly popped into the room clad only in leather underpants. 

He felt arms slide around his stomach and a warm body pressed up against his. Van closed his eyes and smiled softly as Dilandau kissed the crook of his neck.

"Oh it was great fun. We discussed all my bad qualities and how she'd come and kill me should I harm one hair on your pretty, poofy head," Dilandau whispered.

Van turned around, drinking in Dilandau's face. "Poofy?"

Dilandau smirked. "Fine, shaggy. Face it, you have a rather unruly mop of hair."

Van reached out and tousled Dilandau's head as best he could before the albino ducked out from his grasp, red eyes blazing. He paid for his action with a large slap to the head as Dilandau backed up.

"It's a good look for you as well," Van called out, laughing. 

Dilandau stood in front of the glass doors of the balcony, moonlight streaming down to illuminate his figure, revealing every fluffed hair on his head. His arms were crossed and beneath his glare, Van could see the little gears turning in his head.

Without another word, Dilandau threw the doors open to the balcony and walked out. Van rubbed his head, following him to the balcony, still smiling.

"Ouch. Damn, you hit people harder than anyone I have ever met," he said as he crossed the threshold.

Dilandau, back to him, looked out into the night. He turned his head, silver hair settling into place as if by magic. He blew a kiss to Van, eyes smiling.

And then jumped off the balcony.

"DILANDAU!" Van yelled, heart dropping to his toes. He ran to the edge of the balcony, looking down onto the dark ground of Fanelia. Panic surged through him. _Omigod omigod omigod omigod—_

A pale hand grabbed his wrist. Van looked down at it in shock. Suddenly it yanked his hand, pulling him down. He went hurdling off the balcony headfirst.

His heart surged, adrenaline pumping insanely. The cold wind whipped his face. Without a second thought, Van felt his back rip open as brilliant white wings exploded from his back. His shirt all but disintegrated.

He turned midair, turning to face the balcony. Directly below it, sitting atop the ugliest gargoyle imaginable, was Dilandau. He was grinning like a fool, giggles carrying throughout the whole country.

Van gritted his teeth and flew up to Dilandau's perch. Face to face with the laughing albino, he felt his chastising glare whither and die.

"You…you…" Van felt his face split as a silly grin broke across his features. He shook his head. "You are incorrigible!"

Dilandau rested his head in an upturned palm, arm resting on a gargoyle horn. A dazzling smile lit his face.

"You. Deserved. It."

Van crossed his arms. "You know, I'm going to leave you here for that."

"Then I'll climb right back up," Dilandau pointed out. Van flew in closer, nose almost touching Dilandau's.

"And rip open that nice wound I just finished cleaning up," he whispered. "I don't think so."

Dilandau's eyes softened slightly. He dropped his hand, then leaned in, lightly brushing his lips against Van's. Van wrapped his arms around the paler boy instantly, dragging Dilandau off the gargoyle as he deepened the kiss. Dilandau laced his arms around Van's body, dangling as Van flew away from the castle's walls.

"I've never flown without a guymelef," Dilandau whispered, mumbling as he traced kisses down Van's jaw. "But I definitely like this better."

"You just like it because you get a chance to see me with my shirt off," Van said.

Dilandau smirked, but whatever he had to say in reply was silenced as Van caught his mouth with his. The paler boy moaned slightly, and Van almost forgot to keep his wings moving.

"Where are you flying us to?" Dilandau asked after a moment, pulling out of the kiss. He pressed his cheek to Van's, looking out into the sky. Van smiled, eyes half-lidded.

"Dilandau, I would take you wherever you wanted to go," he said. He traced lazy circles on Dilandau's back with one free hand.

"Oh really? I might get heavy after awhile," Dilandau said, smirking. He nibbled on Van's ear.

"Well then if I were you, I wouldn't pick a place very far," Van replied. Dilandau was, in all actuality, surprisingly light. He supposed it was all that armor that made him always seem bulkier and heavier.

"It's nice just to fly," Dilandau mumbled. His rested his head on Van's shoulder, lips against his neck. "Just fly, Pigeon. Please just fly."

And fly Van did.

~*~

****

rainjewel: And there was fanfiction…and it was good. I sound omnipotent or something. 

****

Ryan: Don't get too carried away with yourself.

****

rainjewel: I was making FUN of myself, goofball. Fun! F-U-N!

****

Ryan: *laughing* _You_ are the goofball.

****

rainjewel: Life is far too important to take seriously. Now where's all that good, bubbly sparkling cider?

****

Ryan: You've all ready gone past your limit. Hand the glass over.

****

rainjewel: Yes, mother. *rolls eyes*

****

Ryan: Happy New Year everyone!

~*~


	21. Frank

****

Behind Enemy Lines

By: rainjewel

__

Epilogue: Flower in the Rain

__

"So here I am again

Willing to be opened up

And broken like a

Flower in the rain

Tell me what have I to do to die

And then be rinsed

To reach beyond the pain

Like a flower in the rain."

~ Jaci Velasquez, "Flower in the Rain"

~*~

Morning found Van on the roof, basking in the light glow of the new Fanelian day. He had left his bed early this morning, kissing a still slumbering Dilandau on the temple as he left in order to watch the sun rise. There was something extremely comforting of the certainty of the sun. It never failed to rise. The world was full of uncertainties and other things that made Van nervous, but never the sun.

He smiled and stretched against the roof tiles, feeling his back pop deliciously. Wings had an uncanny way of knocking his spine out of alignment. The cracking sound of his bones felt wonderful, even if it silenced the birds around him, startling them to flight.

But the sound of footsteps could not be quieted.

Van twisted around to find Hitomi walking towards him, eyes trained on her shoes to maintain balance. He was slightly surprised—he had never expected her to come up here, but it was also odd because he had just been considering finding her. There was a much-needed conversation that needed to occur…it seemed she was going to instigate it.

He waited silently until she was right beside him, watching her as she sat down with the utmost care. Hitomi wasn't nearly as used to rooftops as he was, and she didn't have the benefit of wings should she fall. 

"How did you find me?" he asked as soon as she looked settled. Almost immediately he felt like an ass. _Nope, not "Good morning, Hitomi. I'm sorry for being a confused asshole," or "I'm really sorry about all that's happened, what can I do to make you happy?" but instead I come off as pissed. This is almost too classic._

Ah. And she was giving him the same look she had colors upon colors ago when he had demanded he give her the power she possessed. What if he had just said what he had been feeling in his heart? How different would things be?

"Dowsing," Hitomi said after a moment. She looked at him without a smile. "And I remembered that you have a penchant for rooftops."

Van half-smiled as he turned to face her. "Hitomi, I'm sor—"

"Please, don't." She held up both her hands, body flinching as if it had been hit. Her eyes closed.

"Okay," Van whispered. Having an inkling that this might be the Very-Wrong-Thing to do or the Very-Extremely-Right-Thing to do, he reached out and took her hand with his gloved one, caressing it with his fingers. "But Hitomi, there are a dozen things we need to discuss."

Hitomi nodded, a small sound echoing from her throat, but her eyes remained closed. Van watched her struggle to keep from breaking down, body shaking beneath a pair of loose pants (were those his?) and white shirt. Still, tears began to stream from beneath her closed eyes.

"Van," she said, so softly he almost didn't catch it, "I—I know you love him. I know that he loves you, just as much as me."

"Yes." Van watched as Hitomi withdrew her hand from his. She wiped her face with it, then opened her green eyes, thickly framed by watery lashes.

"I know the wedding is off, obviously," she said, still wiping absently at her face.

"I'm sorry, Hitomi," he said, before realizing that she didn't want to hear those words.

Hitomi's chin quivered. "Van…it's all right, I think. We've changed. It's hard to accept, but we're different people now. You're not the Van I knew, and I'm nothing like I used to be."  


"What?" Van asked. He looked into her eyes. Had they really changed? Or had new variables been brought into what had been such a simple equation?

"I'm in love with what was," Hitomi whispered. "And that's something different than what is."

Van blinked a few times. "Hitomi…why do you think…"

"Folken once said I had a gift for understanding people," Hitomi said, catching his confusion. She shifted on the sunny tile, bringing her hands around her knees. "And after talking to Dilandau and thinking all yesterday afternoon, I realized what had happened."

"I haven't changed," Van said softly. "And I don't think you have either."

"Don't lie to yourself," Hitomi said, voice rising. Van knew that tone—this was Hitomi knowing she was right. This was the Hitomi that hadn't changed. So how could she…

"I'm not lying," he protested. 

"Van, I am not who I used to be. I am no longer as optimistic or as innocent as I used to be. I gave up my naivete and took on depression," Hitomi said, gazing into his eyes with determination. "You'll see after a while."

Van picked at his boot. He didn't like the idea that he had changed. He liked the person Hitomi had left at the end of the Great War, a person she had helped create.

"Look to yourself Van," she continued. "Fanelia used to be all you could ever think about, all you could concern yourself with. Now you've focused on yourself and others around you. Unfortunately, it seems I left too soon."

Hitomi's face grimaced, as did Van's.

"Fanelia is always my primary concern. I'm trying to make things work here," he said, struggling to keep his tone neutral.

Hitomi sighed. "I'm not going to get through to you, am I?"

Van shrugged, annoyed with himself. "I don't know what you're talking about."

They sat in silence for a while, uneasy with each other's presence. Absently, Van wondered if Dilandau had woken up and was looking for him. Hitomi looked down at her scarred hands. 

"What makes you love him?" Hitomi asked softly. "I can't understand what you see in him…all I know is that you're so damned happy when he's around."

"Hitomi…" Van shifted on the roof, crossing and uncrossing his legs. "I don't really know. He's…different…with me. I know that doesn't help, but he can be so…wonderful at times."

"Really?" Hitomi asked, her voice sounding like a cross of genuine curiosity and skepticism.

"Yes. Can you understand that?" Van asked, keeping his tone light. Hitomi buried her hands in her hair. 

"Still, how can you love him?" She said, voice rising, "He's bloodthirsty and violent! He murders without a thought! How could you love a killer, Van!"

"How could _you_?" Van asked, his own voice rising. _Stop!_ he thought to himself, _don't end this in an argument._

"You are not a killer," Hitomi said softly, emerald eyes darkening.

Van shook his head. "I've killed many, many men. Just because I won the war, just because our principles won out, doesn't make me any less a murderer. The end doesn't justify the means."

"You didn't enjoy it," Hitomi said. Her hand flitted in the air by his shoulder, but it returned to her lap without touching him.

Venom flowed into Van's mouth. "Do you have any idea what has happened to Dilandau? You have no idea what he has been through, what he has struggled with."

"Yes," Hitomi whispered, eyes wide. "Yes, I do."

Van jerked in surprise. "What?"

"I know…I know what has been done to him. I know what he has been through," Hitomi whispered, softer this time. She looked at her hands again while Van absorbed this information. After a moment she took a deep breath. "But despite it all Van, it doesn't excuse what he has done."  


"If I could get my hands on one of those sorcerers…" Van shook his head, feeling his face darken, "I'd kill them. And I _would_ enjoy it."

"Van!" Hitomi said sharply. "You wouldn't."

Van straightened. "I would."

"What's wrong with you?" Hitomi asked, searching his eyes. "You didn't used to think this way."

"I didn't know of all the horrors in this world, Hitomi," Van growled. He stood up, resisting the urge to lash out and attack something.

"What," Hitomi began, standing up carefully as well, "Could possibly be more horrifying than war?"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW!" Van screamed. Hitomi blanched. He touched his face tiredly, closing his eyes. "You never fought a war with your hands, never killed a thing. It's easy for you to tell me what is right from wrong when you've never had a drop of blood touch your hands."

Hitomi stepped back. "Van…"

Van's look softened. "I'm sorry, Hitomi. I didn't mean to yell."

"I don't understand you," Hitomi said, eyebrows knitted in thought.

"No, you understand almost everything about me," Van said. His heart gave a lurch, and he kept his emotions in check. He held out a hand to her. "Hitomi, you have always seen my good side, and you teased it out of me, and I'll love you eternally for that. But that's all you've ever seen—the goodness in me. There's more to me than that."

"I know that, Van," Hitomi said. She stepped towards to Van, looking at his outstretched hand as if it might bite her. 

Van shook his head. "You don't understand it, which is another one of the reasons I love you. I would love to not be able to understand evil. But I do, Hitomi…I do. You said I've changed—I don't think I have. I'm just more aware of everything I am."

Hitomi took another step closer. Van's arm softly slid around her shoulders. It seemed to trigger the pain that both were feeling. Within seconds, Van found himself pulling Hitomi into a tight embrace. A hot, sticky stain began to form on his shirt where her tears fell. Van felt his own tears make salty tracks down his face.

"This would be so much easier if I could hate you," Hitomi whispered.

"I don't want you to hate me," Van replied.

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Hitomi. I am."

"I know that too."  


Van closed his eyes. "It wouldn't have worked out."

"Perhaps," Hitomi whispered. "I'll have to take your word on that."

Van wanted to tell her that he wanted her to stay with him on Gaea, stay in Fanelia. He wanted her to be his best friend, as she had been in the war. But he knew he'd asked too much of her all ready. She should do what she wanted.

Hitomi gently broke from the embrace. She looked up at him, face thoughtful and green eyes deep. He met her with an intense gaze, trying to measure his damage. After a bit, she smiled and straightened her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she said. This time it wasn't a whisper.

Van remembered the last time she had said those words. "Are you sure?"

"No," she said, but the smile didn't falter. "But this is the way things are. There's not much point in fighting reality."

"Hitomi…" Van said, displeased.

"I'm going to leave!" she said then, hurriedly and voice strained. Van tensed. Hitomi stepped away from him. "I have to get away from this for a little while," she said, wiping at her eyes, which were shining again.

__

Don't you mean to get away from me_?_

"You're returning to the Mystic Moon?" Van said. He furrowed his eyebrows.

She shook her head. "No…I don't think that's my home any longer. I need a place…a place…a place where you aren't! Where you and Dilandau are not there, so I can sort myself out."

Hitomi began to cry again, bringing her hands up to her face. Van watched her silently, and then felt some of his own tears slide down his cheek.

"So I'm trying to say that this is a goodbye, Van," she said through parted fingers. "I understand now…and I still love you."

Van held back a sob, but he still heard a small choked sound rise from his throat. Hitomi smiled at him, being as brave as she had for him before, then turned and walked away, carefully picking her way over the roof tile.

He didn't call out to her. He watched her go, and let the pain eat him alive.

__

You are the martyr. You are the sacrifice to my happiness. I'm sorry Hitomi. I know you didn't want to hear it, but I am sorry beyond comprehension.

~*~

Dilandau opened his eyes, squinting into the harsh Fanelian sun. The high window of his bedroom had transparent, white curtains that did nothing to keep the light out.

"Not. Yet," he mumbled to no one in particular. With a groan he rolled over, feeling his irritation wane as the sunlight warmed his bare back. Still, it was the third time the damn light had woken him this morning. It was fine if Van wanted to get up at the butt-crack of dawn, but Dilandau had planned more of a lay-in for the morning

__

Some of us like a little shut-eye now and then.

Dilandau's eyes slid open against his better judgement. It seemed his body was ready to start the day. As if to drive the point home, a hoot came from high above him. Dilandau didn't even look to see if Natal was perched on his bedpost.

"I. Am. Tired," he said softly. He ran a hand through his hair, soothing in its touch. Ignoring his internal clock—by soldier standards he guessed he'd overslept about…six hours…no biggy—he closed his eyes again.

Then came a knock at the door.

Dilandau threw his pillow at it, irritated as hell. Natal hooted loudly.

"I'm asleep, damnit!" he yelled.

Van's head poked through the door. "I see that." He picked up the pillow.

"Oh. It's you," Dilandau said. He flopped back against the mattress, head barely missing the headboard. His eyes followed Van as he walked to the bed. The brown-eyed boy sat down on the opposite side, thought better of it, changed positions and lay down beside Dilandau.

Dilandau took his pillow from Van and placed it behind his head. Van sighed but said nothing. No longer feeling silly, Dilandau lightly laced his fingers with the other boy's and stared up at the ceiling. He sensed that something was wrong with Van, but couldn't quite put his thumb on it.

"Hitomi's leaving," Van said after a bit. _Good_, Dilandau thought.

So…that was what had him all upset. Dilandau stared at Van for a brief second. He didn't know what to say—he was versed in the arts of death, not comfort. So instead he developed a sudden need to pick at the sheets bunched around his hips.

Van rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand. "I didn't realize she had…learned…about what had happ—about you."

Dilandau's fascination grew. He drew the sheets up further. Van continued, oblivious.

"She says she has to get away from me," Van sighed. "I want to say I never thought I would hurt her…but that would be a lie. I—I knew."

Dilandau had never heard something sound so broken.

"Van…you can't change the way she felt," Dilandau said softly, tearing himself away from the sheets. "It was something that was going to happen, and it wasn't going to be easy on anyone."

"We've all gone through so much," Van said, looking towards the window. He sighed and his head bowed. "I don't know what I'm doing anymore."

Dilandau slowly sat up. He kissed the back of Van's neck and gently ran a hand down the boy's spine. There was still that vague sense of feeling like a halfwit at these touches of affection, but slowly Dilandau let himself delve into these little sentiments. For him he would always be more comfortable at being the cold, yet knowledgeable lover, but that wasn't what Van needed. Van was a passionate being when it came to love, to physical contact. He always had been. Pride drove Dilandau, but with Van it had always been passion.

Van leaned back against Dilandau's bare chest, eyes closing. The touch of the albino was balm to his soul. The silence, the power, and the calculation that lay underneath that creamy skin was reassuring for him. Dilandau spoke of his devotion with actions. His words were saved for banter and vicious insults.

Dilandau trailed kisses down Van's throat and shoulders. Slowly the Fanelian was relaxing in his grip. His hands, aristocratic and slender, gradually moved over the canvas of Van's caramel skin, caressing every dip and curve. As comforting as the touches were, Dilandau knew that words were needed. Problems were not solved, and Van's heart was still not at ease.

"Pigeon, I want you to listen to me," he whispered in Van's ear, kissing it as he did so. "Things are hard now, I won't deny that. However, things always get better. Hitomi will move on. The country will settle down. Your people have survived a war, they will definitely survive this minor upset. Do not take the world on your shoulders."

"But I am king," Van protested. Dilandau ran his fingers through his hair. He felt his old impatience rising but successfully crushed it.

"Oh really?" he asked lightly. He moved to the dark-haired boy's side and gently pressed him against the mattress. Van's eyes fluttered open, looking quite soft.

Dilandau stared at him for a moment, feeling the gears turn in his head. Humbly, he lay down atop Van, kissing the king's collarbone. He fit his head under Van's chin, sighing as he felt the Draconian's arms encircle him. 

"I need you, Pigeon," he said softly. He closed his eyes, not even bothered that once upon a time he thought that having to need someone was a weakness. "I need you and I love you."

Van squeezed him. "Then everything's all right."

Dilandau rose up, propping himself on his elbows above Van. He smiled at his king, and then kissed him a few times over, until both of them felt slightly dizzy.

"I love you," Van whispered. His hands began skittering all over Dilandau's sides and back. The albino's eyes darkened, and he kissed him again. It was his way of saying everything was going to be okay.

~*~

Hitomi stepped out of the carriage, carrying only an old bag of Folken's and wearing the bloodstained outfit she had arrived in. She wanted nothing of Van's with her. Not for a while.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" asked the driver. She looked to him.

"I'm fine. Go ahead and return," she said brightly. The driver saluted smartly, and the carriage pulled away. 

Hitomi turned back and looked to up at the gorgeous Asturian Palace. For some reason her heart felt warmer being here. Millerna had shared her pain during the Great War. It seemed so comforting to return to this place, despite the fact that so many memories were attached to this country.

The huge doors flew open before Hitomi, causing her to jump slightly. Millerna came pacing down the walkway, a huge smile on her face. Hitomi couldn't help but smile in return, no matter how much her heart hurt. 

The blonde girl embraced her warmly before she greeted her. Hitomi felt like crying right then and there, but refrained from breaking down so soon.

"Hello Hitomi. I figured you'd come here," Millerna said softly, stepping back.

"I can't be there with them right now," Hitomi said. She looked to the sparkling Asturian canals. 

"Someday you will be able to," Millerna said. She placed an arm around Hitomi's shoulders and gently began leading the girl inside the castle. "But for now, how about we have a few good bottles of _vino_?"

Hitomi couldn't help but crack a smile, hearing the hidden amusement in Millerna's voice. They both remembered Hitomi's last bout with the _vino_ bottle.

"Yes, Millerna. I think a few bottles of _vino_ would be just the ticket."

~*~

****

A/N: Thanks again to everyone for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry I was so burned out towards the end of this. Your praise and patience are dear to me. My gratitude is not enough to make up for my behavior, but thank you again, all the same.

__

~*~


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